The man in 119 takes his tea all alone   Mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries   I'm hearing opera through the door   The souls of men and women, impassioned all   Their voices climb and fall, battle trumpets call   I fill the bath and climb inside, singing      He will not touch their pastry   But every day they bring him more   Gold from the breakfast tray, I steal them all away   And then go, eat them on the shore      I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand   Sing of a lover's fate sealed by jealous hate   And wash my hand in the sea with just three days more   I'd have just about learned the entire score to Aida      Holidays must end as you know   All is memory taken home with me   The opera, the stolen tea, the sand drawing   The verging sea all years ago