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When bonny Clive was twenty three |
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He took a dive from the balcony |
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Embarrassing his blushing bride |
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Who took her red face for a ride |
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To Blackpool and the pouring rain |
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She went out on the evening train |
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And came in with the morning tide |
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As another seaside suicide |
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It was summertime when Sally Clarke |
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Suffered from a broken heart |
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That left her down and out of touch |
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The patron saint of nothing much |
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No charity, no faith, no hope |
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She'd seen it on her favourite soap |
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Take fifty thousand million pills |
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And don't forget to pay the bills |
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Well I remember Micky Doyle |
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He shuffled off this mortal coil |
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With no message for 'that special girl' |
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Just thank you and goodbye cruel world |
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Then for the sake of Auld Lang Syne |
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He put his head on the railway line |
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Looked up at the morning sun |
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And waited for the train to come |
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The TV repossessed and so |
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I tune in to the radio |
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Where the DJ's playing the same old songs |
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To whistle while you're signing on |
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Give me the beat boy and free my soul |
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Fill my pockets up with gold |
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I'll leave a message on the fridge |
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And drive my car off London Bridge |
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But London Bridge is falling down |
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There ain't no gold in Silver town |
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So I'm cancelling my driving test |
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And walking back to happiness |
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Whoop bye oh yeah yeah! |
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EVERYTIME A CHURCHBELL RINGS |
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ANOTHER ANGEL GETS IT'S WINGS |
