Beatles Cigarettes


Strap me in please Mother, and put the rain guard on

Button all the buttons, are you listening to John?

Zip all zips and clip all clips, please Mother don’t forget

We’re going down to Denmark St for Beatles cigarettes


Wheel me fast from High Field Close and on to Milton Rd

Out towards the auction rooms of Martin and Pole

Unshackle me at the Baptist hall, Oh Mother you must wait!

The world will end and hell descend if I don’t kick the

gates


Past Dr Garrard’s surgery, who fetched me to this world

And was the first on earth to know if I were boy or girl

Cross at the police station, where I drank orange squash

And wore the kind Inspector’s cap, the hour I was lost


(And when you came to claim me I was eating peppermints

Perhaps this is the reason I’ve been straying ever since)


Onwards through the market place, Bishops, Davy Greggs

Pat the statue of the boy with callipers on his legs

But we can’t stop, no time to shop, oh Mother don’t forget

We’re rolling out through Wokingham for Beatles cigarettes


Safe beneath the rain guard as the sleet begins to fall

Warm beneath the misty window-pane

Beatles Sweetie Cigarettes, the sugar on my tongue

Oh I wish that I was three years old again

Thank you John, Paul, George, and Ringo

Thank you Wokingham

Thanks you International where I upset the jam

Thank you sweetshop lady with the purple hair

But most of all thank you to the girl who pushed the chair