| The view — Sixth Avenue
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| The legs of Waterloo Lily
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| Black tights for dark nights
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| On a trip through Picadilly
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| If you knew the kind of glue
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| She gums her eyelids with
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| Realise, on those eyes
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| That’s a gum you’d rather not use
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| From a jar, in the house of Waterloo Lily
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| Painted red, the double bed
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| The biggest in the city
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| Especially sprung, hung undone
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| To stimulate delight
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| Sex machines seem but clean
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| She does things, you call her true
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| Waterloo Lily’s got enough to turn us all on
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| Got a bra to fit a car
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| A port upon her back you warm your feet on
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| A corset keeps her in
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| So when you pull a string it lets it all out
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| Lily Waterloo, Piccadilly blue
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| Pint of white on Lily’s lip
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| The daily upper door
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| Down the caff, a cup of char
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| Double dogwalk, brown and British
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| Imagine you and Lily too
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| Aboard a double bunk
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| Riding two, it’s out of view
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| All the things your sister won’t…
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| Waterloo Lily’s got enough to turn us all on
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| Got a bra to fit a car
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| A port upon her back you warm your feet on
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| A corset keeps her in
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| So when you pull a string it lets it all out
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| Lily Waterloo, Piccadilly blue |