The Everyday Story of Smalltown

Smalltown, snoring under blankets Woken by the clank It's just the milkman's dawn round Smalltown, hiding undercovers The lodgers and the lovers Are asleep 'round Smalltown Shiny gray black snake of bikes He slithers Bearing up the men and boys To work We're standing in poplar lines Making alarm clocks that'll wake our wives up Don't ask us, we haven't the time We're racing the hooter that'll signal life's up Smalltown, crouching in the valley Woken by the sally army Sunday march round Smalltown, coughing in the toilet Now who on earth would spoil it Would they pull down Smalltown? If it's all the same to you Mrs. Progress Think I'll drink my Oxo up And get away It's not that you're repulsive to see In your brand new catalog nylon nightie You're too fast for little old me Next you'll be telling me it's 1990 I have lived here for a thousand years or maybe more And I've sheltered all the children who have fought the wars And as payment they make love in me Squeaky old beds, in bicycle sheds Inside of their heads, as singles and weds As Tories and Reds And that's how I'm fed And that's how I'm fed Smalltown, snoring under blankets Woken by the clank It's just the milkman's dawn round Smalltown, hiding undercovers The lodgers and the lovers Are asleep 'round Smalltown Smalltown, crouching in the valley Woken by the sally army Sunday march round Smalltown, coughing in the toilet Now who on earth would spoil it Till you pull down Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown Smalltown