| In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs | 
| Of every head he's had the pleasure to know. | 
| And all the people that come and go | 
| Stop and say hello. | 
| On the corner is a banker with a motorcar, | 
| The little children laugh at him behind his back. | 
| And the banker never wears a mack | 
| In the pouring rain, very strange. | 
| Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes. | 
| There beneath the blue suburban skies | 
| I sit, and meanwhile back | 
| In penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass | 
| And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. | 
| He likes to keep his fire engine clean, | 
| It's a clean machine. | 
| Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes. | 
| A four of fish and finger pies | 
| In summer, meanwhile back | 
| Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout | 
| The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray | 
| And tho' she feels as if she's in a play | 
| She is anyway. | 
| In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer, | 
| We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim. | 
| And then the fireman rushes in | 
| From the pouring rain, very strange. | 
| Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes. | 
| There beneath the blue suburban skies | 
| I sit, and meanwhile back. | 
| Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes. | 
| There beneath the blue suburban skies, | 
| Penny Lane. |