| I walked into the nightclub in the morning
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| There was Kummel on the handle of the door
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| The ashtrays were unemptied
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| The cleaning unattempted
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| And a squashed tomato sandwich on the floor
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| I pulled aside the thick magenta curtains
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| So Regency, so Regency, my dear
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| And a host of little spiders
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| Ran a race across the ciders
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| To a box of baby 'pollies by the beer
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| Oh sun upon the summergoing bypass
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| Where ev’rything is speeding to the sea
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| And wonder beyond wonder
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| That here where lorries thunder
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| The sun should ever percolate to me
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| When Boris used to call in his Sedanca
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| When Teddy took me down to his estate
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| When my nose excited passions
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| And my clothes were in the fashion
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| When my beaux were never cross if I was late
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| There was sun enough for lazing upon beaches
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| There was fun enough for far into the night;
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| But I’m dying now and done for
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| What on earth was all the fun for?
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| I am ill and old and terrified and tight |