| Playing dominos on the big coach, sometimes winning or losing
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| Playing darts in the bar room, in between the boozing
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| And later on the stage, playing music from a dream
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| It’s one for the travelling man, two for what he’s seen
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| Later at the reception, pressmen and their wives
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| Yes-men with their suggestions, well-whishers with their lies
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| Me I’m getting drunker, by the minute let it roll
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| It’s three for the company man, four for his soul
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| Later on in the hotel room, playing cards until the dawn
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| Others just conversating, I suppose they were having fun
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| And crashing to their bedrooms, legless one by one
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| It’s five for the cold morning light, sixteen for the sun
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| Back on the big coach in the morning, head full of pain
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| Sleepy eyes still yawning, yes we’re back on the road again
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| Sometimes make me wonder what we’ll be like at the end
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| It’s seven for the travelling band, eight for doing it all again
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| Nine for the travelling band, ten for doing it all again |