I still believe in Sunday as being a day of restAnd maybe it's because I'm an IrishmanThat I like Dublin bestStill whose who are you to tell me I'm alright FredBut don't let that worry your sonFor when he grows up and gets blown out of hereHave yourself A-tomic bombNow introducing Maisie (Maisie) and on my rightWill beBoth of whom are here now represented byOur good friend U.V.I.P.Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommendOnly if you like rocking jazzIntermingled with an ounce of U double Kfull of eastern Raj MatazzClose your eyes and the door don't forge-tIf you do I take it you know what to expectStill whose who are you to tell me I'm alrightFred but don't let that worry your sonFor when he grows up and gets blown out of hereHave yourself a (really)Tour-de-force-a (yearly)non-de-plume A-tomic bombFeeling tired one degree under Oh-What you need is picking up so off you go(Get picked up you know)Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommendOnly if you like rocking jazzIntermingled with an ounce of U double KFull of Eastern (promised)Without a doubting (Thomas)Polynesian Raj MatazzNothing older than time nothing sweeter than wineNothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blindNothing I couldn't sayNothing why 'cos todayNothing rhymed

 

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