ye aaj kal ke ladke likhte na padte hai aur fashion fir bhi dekho
be par ke udte hai ye bal in ke dekho
ke gaal in ke dekho ke chaal in ki dekho
kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar

ye aaj kal ke ladke likhte na padte hai aur fashion fir bhi dekho
be par ke udte hai ye bal in ke dekho
ke gaal in ke dekho ke chaal in ki dekho
kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar
kabutar kabutar ye aaj kal ke ladke

mathe pe lat hai latki latki si patali kamar bhi hai
mataki mataki si mathe pe lat hai latki latki si
patali kamar bhi hai mataki mataki si arey re re
ye bal in ke dekho ke gaal in ke dekho
ke chaal in ki dekho kabutar kabutar
kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar
ye aaj kal ke ladke

ladki jo mili koi ye lap ke badte ye
aanchal jo mila koi kya kya fadke ye
ladki jo mili koi ye lap ke badte ye
aanchal jo mila koi kya kya fadke ye
arey re re ye bal in ke dekho ke gaal in ke dekho
ke chaal in ki dekho kabutar kabutar
kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar

ye aaj kal ke ladke likhte na padte hai aur fashion fir bhi dekho
be par ke udte hai ye bal in ke dekho
ke gaal in ke dekho ke chaal in ki dekho
kabutar kabutar kabutar kabutar
kabutar kabutar ye aaj kal ke ladke
ye aaj kal ke ladke

They write not, nor read, these boys of the age, yet fashion's flight they embrace,
See the wayward hair that dances, defying earthly space,
Behold the flush upon their cheeks, the rhythm in their pace,
Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, in this fleeting race.

They write not, nor read, these boys of the age, yet fashion's fire they chase,
See the wayward hair that dances, defying earthly space,
Behold the flush upon their cheeks, the rhythm in their pace,
Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon,
Pigeon, pigeon, these boys of this place.

A lock hangs upon the brow, a slender waist they wear,
Like a slender pot, they sway and stare,
Upon the brow, a lock that hangs so fair,
A slender waist they wear, like a slender pot, aware, Oh!
See the wayward hair that dances, behold the flush,
The rhythm of their pace, in a sudden rush,
Pigeon, pigeon,
Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon,
These boys of this age.

Should a maiden appear, they rush and leap,
If a scarf takes flight, their passions steep,
Should a maiden appear, they rush and leap,
If a scarf takes flight, their passions weep,
Oh! See the wayward hair that dances, behold the flush,
The rhythm of their pace, in a sudden rush,
Pigeon, pigeon,
Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon.

They write not, nor read, these boys of the age, yet fashion's flight they embrace,
See the wayward hair that dances, defying earthly space,
Behold the flush upon their cheeks, the rhythm in their pace,
Pigeon, pigeon, pigeon, pigeon,
Pigeon, pigeon, these boys of this place,
These boys of this age.