You’ve all heard that penguin birds can’t fly up in the air.
But we can dive where the fishing’s fine, so we don’t really care.
Huddled for warmth all winter long, waiting for the summer sun.
There it shines! So we’ll be surfing—now we’re gonna have some fun!

Surfing penguins! Cowabunga we’ll surf all day!
Surfing penguins! Walking the nose—hanging ten—through the wild antarctic waves!

Picture surfing penguins riding through the icy floe —
And then we hide our surfboards—so the scientists don’t know!
Waddling home at suppertime, with the catch of the day.
Food tastes much better when it’s pre-chewed—that’s what all the young ones say!

Surfing penguins! Cowabunga! We’ll surf all day.
Surfing penguins! Walking the nose, hanging ten through the wild antarctic waves.

There’s an answer to the extra special super-secret mystery that every single penguin knows —
How do we stand upon the ice in middle of the winter, and we’re fine, and never freeze our toes?
But we won’t tell you!

Other birds may laugh at us as overhead they soar,
Until they see us in our baggies, waxing up our boards!
Shootin’ the curl right through the tube—kick out on the other side.
Chillin’ when the swell is glassy—waitin’ for the perfect ride.

Surfing penguins! Cowabunga! We’ll surf all day.
Surfing penguins! Walking the nose, hanging ten through the wild antarctic waves.

© 2007 Scott Hooper
www.zoobbreak.com