The Best Years of Our Live Songtext

von Paul Roland

Broughton fags for Cunningham, Mayhew's fag has fled,
I don't fag for either for daddy knows the head,
Crabtree runs the Prefect's bath, Dawlish brings him tea,
Me, I added to the fun, milk spiced with LSD.

Three Cheers for King's and Houghton House,
Three more for Master's wives,
Another for cold showers
And the best years of our lives.

Curfew here is sacrosanct, the town is out of bounds,
So keep an eye for Matron returning from her rounds.
Chaplin takes confession, he says we're steeped in sin,
The Lower Fourth's ungodly thoughts bring dribbles to his chin.

Who'll cheer our first eleven and damn the vanquished foe?
Why, the earnest, wager Freshmen will, 'cause we're too drunk to go.