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The view, Sixth Avenue |
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The legs of Waterloo Lily |
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Black tights for dark nights |
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On a trip through Piccadilly |
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If you knew the kind of glue |
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She gums her eyelids with |
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Realize, on those eyes |
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That's a gum you'd rather not use |
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From a jar, in the house of Waterloo Lily |
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Painted red, the double bed |
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The biggest in the city |
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Especially sprung, hung undone |
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To stimulate delight |
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Sex machines seem but clean |
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She does things, you call her true |
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Waterloo Lily's got enough to turn us all on |
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Got a bra to fit a car |
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A port upon her back you warm your feet on |
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A corset keeps her in |
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So when you pull a string it lets it all out |
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Lily Waterloo, Piccadilly blue |
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Pint of white on Lily's lip |
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The daily upper door |
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Down the caff, a cup of char |
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Double dog walk, brown and British |
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Imagine you and Lily too, aboard a double bunk |
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Riding two, it's out of view |
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All the things your sister won't |
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Waterloo Lily's got enough to turn us all on |
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Got a bra to fit a car |
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A port upon her back you warm your feet on |
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A corset keeps her in |
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So when you pull a string it lets it all out |
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Lily Waterloo, Piccadilly blue |
