| 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. |