Who's gonna tell the orange
|
they're actually brown
|
Who's gonna mop up for grey
|
when they've painted the town
|
It's the news that everyone dreads
|
that we're no longer painting it red
|
that our gag's still funny
|
but they've opted for a different clown
|
You were great in the sixties
|
but we're gonna have to pull you down
|
|
Nothing like the sound of the shallow
|
jumping in at the deep
|
Royalty's balloon coming down
|
is a memorable shriek
|
Nothing quite like the sickening clout
|
of the dive into pool drained out
|
You excelled as a Queen
|
but you'll have to return the crown
|
You were great in the sixties
|
but we're gonna have to pull you down
|
|
Who's gonna tell the tall
|
they're beginning to shrink
|
Like who's gonna tell the Swiss
|
They're no longer in sync
|
We'll have to get the maroon
|
in a separate counselling room
|
say "it may be your washer
|
but you seem to be fading to pink"
|
Yesterday's ice cool
|
doesn't take long to melt and sink
|
|
Who's gonna tell the cities
|
that are acting like towns
|
they're actually just a village
|
that the posh surrounds
|
The diplomatic answer
|
to your 25 stone dancer
|
is your act's still great
|
but we can't keep changing a pound
|
You were Queen in your day
|
but you're gonna have to give back the crown
|
You were great in the sixties
|
but we're gonna have to pull you down
|
|
-----------------
|
Who's Gonna Tell
|
| The Beautiful South |
