Hermitage Shanks Songtext

von Mr.B The Gentleman Rhymer

I am the chappy
Who's seen the bappies
Of a thousand lappy lasses
Clad in all the castle
But probably not the hassle
My kazound's up in the wind
Of a world of pure delight
Bright the world of sin is
Like the finish on some nylon tights
Styled on times gone past
With just a hint of twenty-first century arse
I am the chap who spent a whole damn summer on gin
I got the clap and I lamented
I don't have a plan
Now draw me again (?)
Run to mummy
And then
To the place where I find space
Solace, and grace
Far from the trappings of the rodentile race
Down with the strides
Save grace and then
Brace myself for whatever may occur
It's the sit-down of champions,
I'm sure you'll concur
If the lure of modern life has become too much
I long for my porcelain crutch and so
I retire to Hermitage Shanks
For a rest and a read
And perhaps a little --
If I'm drawing a blank
I give thanks to the tank
When I retire to Hermitage Shanks
Hermitage Shanks, you're my piece of the rock
Down with the britches
Out with the old --
Clasp the chain with a couple of yanks
And give thanks
To Hermitage Shanks
When I've overdone it on the sherry
And I'm very merry
With a Delhi belly
I can verily assume
I can retire to this room
And resume the job at hand
And then rejoin my merry band
I would give it ten minutes, if I were you
Ten minutes to recover from the shock and ballyhoo
Ballywho did that?
Ballyme or ballyyou?
You're celiac, you, obsessed with the poo!
I'm off to the Kit-Kat Club for a few more.
Sweet or dry sherry; matters not!
I'll do more of the same.
The notions which dare not speak their name!
I'm the master of my domain, so I claim.
Then why am I always the one to blame
When a distaste for the air is exclaimed!
When the accusations become too much
I long for my porcelain crutch and so
I retire to Hermitage Shanks
For a rest and a read and perhaps a little--
If I'm drawing a blank, I give thanks to the tank
When I retire to Hermitage Shanks
Hermitage Shanks, you're my piece of the rock
Down with the britches, out with the old--
Clasp the chain with a couple of yanks
And give thanks to Hermitage Shanks