Beatles Cigarettes

Strap me in please Mother, and put the rain guard on
Button all the buttons, are you listening to John?
Zip all zips and clip all clips, please Mother don’t forget
We’re going down to Denmark St for Beatles cigarettes

Wheel me fast from High Field Close and on to Milton Rd
Out towards the auction rooms of Martin and Pole
Unshackle me at the Baptist hall, Oh Mother you must wait!
The world will end and hell descend if I don’t kick the gates

Past Dr Garrard’s surgery, who fetched me to this world
And was the first on earth to know if I were boy or girl
Cross at the police station, where I drank orange squash
And wore the kind Inspector’s cap, the hour I was lost
(And when you came to claim me I was eating peppermints
Perhaps this is the reason I’ve been straying ever since)

Onwards through the market place, Bishops, Davy Greggs
Pat the statue of the boy with callipers on his legs
But we can’t stop, no time to shop, oh Mother don’t forget
We’re rolling out through Wokingham for Beatles cigarettes

Safe beneath the rain guard as the sleet begins to fall
Warm beneath the misty window-pane
Beatles Sweetie Cigarettes, the sugar on my tongue
Oh I wish that I was three years old again
Thank you John, Paul, George, and Ringo
Thank you Wokingham
Thanks you International where I upset the jam
Thank you sweetshop lady with the purple hair
But most of all thank you to the girl who pushed the chair