|london town . . . it,s a to z . . .
zebedee it,s time for bed
it,s dastardly an autograph
but which ones mutley it,s a laugh
but like a street without a name
a salesman,s shake a firm handshake
but like a thames that ne,er runs true
had that been a . . . mistake . . . ?
|i keep on hearing a tweet in a clearing
but don,t mince for me argentina
and like the bait that,s fish to fate
"ring around later" said tina
but please keep your hair on because he,s been long gone
its 184.108.40.206.6 but don,t aske me why
because it,s been said when it came to a head
"why mother wouldn,t hurt a fly"
except "lucky lucan" he lived in a "bluecan"
( old mother hubbard lived under the stair )
he called for his mummy she sold him a dummy
( she sold more dummies than mothercare )
but selfless she gave . . . like a man in a cave . . . a pat on a hot tin roof
but sloane all alone like a hog on a phone but has she got the hoof
but take the pistorious good ship victorious . . . i see no ribauld quips
but oh kiss me lardy or did he mean hardy a tale of sinking ships
but her marmies mailness . . . it,s all slow as snailness
but jill she likes brown rice
but we,re so pliant and pussy your client
the postman always minces twice