| Standing at the bus stop with my shopping in my hands
|
| when i’m over-hearing elder ladies,
|
| As the rumours start to fly
|
| You hear them in the school yard
|
| In the scrap yard
|
| In the chip shop
|
| In the phone box
|
| In the pool hall
|
| At the shoe store
|
| Every corner turn around
|
| It started with a school girl
|
| Who was running, Running home to her Mam and Dad
|
| Told them she was playing, in the change room,
|
| Of the local football side, They said tell us again,
|
| She told them again, tell us the truth, they find it hard to believe
|
| 'Cause he taught our Steve, even trained me,
|
| Taught uncle John who’s a father of three
|
| Only takes one tree, to make a thousand matches
|
| Only takes one match, to burn a thousand trees
|
| A thousand trees
|
| You see it in the classroom
|
| In the swimming pool
|
| Where the match-stick men are made
|
| At the scout’s hall
|
| At the football
|
| Where the wise we trust are paid
|
| They all honour his name
|
| He did a lot for the game
|
| Got his name knocked up above the sports ground gates
|
| Now they’re ripping them down, stamping the ground
|
| Picture gathers dust in the bar in the lounge
|
| It takes one tree, to make a thousand matches
|
| Only takes one match, to burn a thousand trees
|
| A thousand trees
|
| Wake up, and smell the rain
|
| Shake up, he’s back to stay
|
| Hasn’t been on a holiday
|
| His growing seeds don’t believe
|
| Why he’s been away
|
| In the school yard
|
| Changing room
|
| Playing fields
|
| Bathroom
|
| Phone box
|
| Office blocks
|
| Corners turn around
|
| They keep doubting the flame, tossing the blame
|
| Got his name knocked up above the sports ground gates
|
| now they’re ripping them down, stamping the ground
|
| Picture gathers dust in the bar, in the lounge
|
| Only takes one tree, to make a thousand matches
|
| Only takes one match, to burn A thousand trees
|
| A thousand trees
|
| A thousand trees
|
| A thousand trees |