| Smalltown, snoring under blankets
|
| Woken by the clank
|
| It’s just the milkman’s dawn round
|
| Smalltown, hiding undercovers
|
| The lodgers and the lovers
|
| Are asleep 'round Smalltown
|
| Shiny gray black snake of bikes
|
| He slithers
|
| Bearing up the men and boys
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| To work
|
| We’re standing in poplar lines
|
| Making alarm clocks that’ll wake our wives up
|
| Don’t ask us, we haven’t the time
|
| We’re racing the hooter that’ll signal life’s up
|
| Smalltown, crouching in the valley
|
| Woken by the sally army
|
| Sunday march round
|
| Smalltown, coughing in the toilet
|
| Now who on earth would spoil it
|
| Would they pull down Smalltown?
|
| If it’s all the same to you
|
| Mrs. Progress
|
| Think I’ll drink my Oxo up
|
| And get away
|
| It’s not that you’re repulsive to see
|
| In your brand new catalog nylon nightie
|
| You’re too fast for little old me
|
| Next you’ll be telling me it’s 1990
|
| I have lived here for a thousand years or maybe more
|
| And I’ve sheltered all the children who have fought the wars
|
| And as payment they make love in me
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| Squeaky old beds, in bicycle sheds
|
| Inside of their heads, as singles and weds
|
| As Tories and Reds
|
| And that’s how I’m fed
|
| And that’s how I’m fed
|
| Smalltown, snoring under blankets
|
| Woken by the clank
|
| It’s just the milkman’s dawn round
|
| Smalltown, hiding undercovers
|
| The lodgers and the lovers
|
| Are asleep 'round Smalltown
|
| Smalltown, crouching in the valley
|
| Woken by the sally army
|
| Sunday march round
|
| Smalltown, coughing in the toilet
|
| Now who on earth would spoil it
|
| Till you pull down Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown
|
| Smalltown |