| The landladys husband came up to town today
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| Since he left them both ten years ago to serve the ministry
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| The dark down road of his approach in constant rain was drenched
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| The tenants boy said «how dya do"then swore in french
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| Did you teach this little child these curses on my soul
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| You should both be shut down in the coal-hole
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| Thats the way to treat a child who cries out in the night
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| And a woman who teaches wrong from right
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| Chorus: hes a battered old bird
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| And hes living up there
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| Theres a place where time stands still
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| If you keep taking those little pink pills
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| «hush your mouth you hypocrite»
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| His humour cut her deep
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| The tight lipped leer of judgement
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| That had seen her love desert her just like sleep
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| «filthy words on childrens lips are better, my dear spouse
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| Then if I were to speak my mind about this house»
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| On the first floor there are two old maids
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| Each one wishing that the other was afraid
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| And next door to them is a man so mild
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| til he chopped off the head of a visitors child
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| He danced upon the bonfire
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| Swallowed sleeping pills like dreams
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| With a bottle of sweet sherry that everything redeems
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| And on the second floor is the macintosh man
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| Hes in his overcoats more than out of them
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| And the typewriters rattling all through the night
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| Hes burgundy for breakfast tight
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| He says «one day Ill throw away all of my cares
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| And it is always christmas in a cupboard at the top of the stairs»
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| «well heres a boy if ever there was
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| Whos going to do big things
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| Thats what they all say and thats how the trouble begins
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| Ive seen them rise and fall
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| Been through their big deals and smalls
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| Hed better have a dream that goes beyond four walls»
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| You think he should be sent outside playing with the traffic
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| When pieces of him are already scattered in the attic |