| She’s a Goddess, she calms you down, |
| Went to Italy, ran from town, |
| But the dirt of England calls her back, |
| Those rolling hills leave her flat |
| Puts her arms around your pain, |
| She’s the weighing scale of your day, |
| As you push them one by one into the car, |
| ‘Round the merry-go-round of a West country park |
| You wouldn’t take it on holiday with you, |
| Take it away on holiday with you, |
| Said you couldn’t take it away, |
| On holiday with you |
| She’s a goddess, she’s not faking, |
| Seeks your approval in all she’s making, |
| Sees you in the dark, |
| Feels you see her a thousand parts |
| In keeping a cautious eye, |
| Lost control, the child died, |
| With your bags forever packed, your letters unsent, |
| Her belly aches with your empty intent |
| And you wouldn’t take it on holiday with you, |
| Take it away on holiday with you, |
| Said you couldn’t take it away, |
| On holiday with you |