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Текст (слова) песни: osullivan gilbert - January Git



I still believe in Sunday as being a day of rest
And maybe it`s because I`m an Irishman
That I like Dublin best
Still whose who are you to tell me I`m alright Fred
But don`t let that worry your son
For when he grows up and gets blown out of here
Have yourself A-tomic bomb
Now introducing Maisie (Maisie) and on my right
Will be
Both of whom are here now represented by
Our good friend U.V.I.P.
Whose mundane conjectoral I`d recommend
Only if you like rocking jazz
Intermingled with an ounce of U double K
full of eastern Raj Matazz
Close your eyes and the door don`t forge-t
If you do I take it you know what to expect
Still whose who are you to tell me I`m alright
Fred but don`t let that worry your son
For when he grows up and gets blown out of here
Have yourself a (really)
Tour-de-force-a (yearly)
non-de-plume A-tomic bomb
Feeling tired one degree under Oh-
What you need is picking up so off you go
(Get picked up you know)
Whose mundane conjectoral I`d recommend
Only if you like rocking jazz
Intermingled with an ounce of U double K
Full of Eastern (promised)
Without a doubting (Thomas)
Polynesian Raj Matazz
Nothing older than time nothing sweeter than wine
Nothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blind
Nothing I couldn`t say
Nothing why `cos today
Nothing rhymed

 

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