E                           A              E
Oh say I’m not the only one to fill with trepidation
                             A           E
Walking across the forecourt of the fire station
                             A                 E
My wariness consumes me, yet still protects me from
                                           A            E      E   A E (x2)
The dimmer switch and the membership of Britannia Music Club.


                                    A             E
I adventured for a fortnight in the valley of the Rhone
                                    A             E
Defied capricious mistrals on which tragedies are blown
                               A            E
Dismounting at the roadside to lubricate my chain
                                  A             E
I heard the hounds of retribution barking their refrain:



Let’s go the Met Bar, and cause an altercation
                                                 E   A E (x8)
Let’s go the Groucho, and snap at rakish heels. 


                                      A                 E
For a month I went all floppy just to see where I’d end up
                                       A          E
The morgue was my considered guess, or maybe Martinique
                              A             E
The stern grind of reality however took its course
                                 A                E       E   A E
I stayed exactly where I was and suffered endless Feltz.


                               A                 E
Because you had a daughter and chose to call her Raine
                               A                  E
Because you didn’t indicate to go down Woodchurch Lane
                                A               E
Your Am-Dram class had been postponed indefinitely
                                           A             E
‘Cos the root of Jesse’s just turned up in glorious majesty.


Singing “Sealed Knot Society, let’s see you try and do this one:
                                             E   A E (x4)
Luton Town: Millwall, nineteen eighty-five”.  


B
Hand me down my silver trumpets, sound the revolution bell
                                                  E   A E (x2)
There’s a Cher impersonator rising up in Israel.


                           A              E
Late Lunch audience: we’ve got all your addresses
                     A                  E
Lazy greedy farmers: pick your own strawberries
                             A            E
Is that our phone ringing or is it on the telly?

Let’s do the bongo-laced twenty-second album!


E                          A        E
Vreni Schneider, you’re my downhill lady
                            A            E
Vreni Schneider, you’re the queen of the slopes
                           A        E
Vreni Schneider, you’re my downhill lady
                            A            E
Vreni Schneider, you’re the queen of the slopes.