In history, the raspberry is shrouded and obscure, no one's kept a record of its use.
Even though it is the greatest of the many sounds that the human body can't produce.
Better than finger snapping, more handy than hand clapping and more expressive than a sigh.
And if you ever want to stage your mood, the raspberry has lots of attitude.
So come on, don't be shy, blow a raspberry, blow a raspberry.
When the world has got you down again, blow a raspberry, blow a raspberry.
A raspberry might be your only friend.
Even though it's looked upon with academic scorn, the raspberry has quite a pedigree.
Till somebody figured how to blow it through a horn, it was heard in every symphony.
Now English scholars working have even found it lurking in one of Shakespeare's tragedies.
In Hamlet's original soliloquy, the question is to be or not to be.
And the answer is, blow a raspberry, blow a raspberry.
The cult ol' bogey, all you need to know, blow a raspberry, blow a raspberry.
Just put your lips together and blow, yeah.
How about a solo?
A solo.
Sing a while, sing along.
One more, one more, one more.
Cross-Berry Field Forever.
Some people find that song very moving, you know what I mean?