I shout all my obscenities from steeples,
But please don't label me a madman,
I'm off to see the Bootleg Beatles
As the bootleg Mark Chapman,
Cafe bars, idiots and pidgeons,
There's far too many in this town,
So me and the ombudsman,
Are gonna do what we can,
When the evening sun goes down.
Yes, some of my pullovers are roll-necked,
It kind of breaks up the ennui,
But your experimental side project,
Must have put 10 years on me,
Opposite the Bannister and Shamrock,
Which used to be the Rose and Crown,
I like to play Pat Boone
On the county bassoon,
When the evening sun goes dow-ow-ow-own,
When the evening sun goes down.
When the evening sun-
When the evening sun-
When the evening sun goes down.
When the evening sun-
SongtexteWhen the evening sun-
When the evening sun goes down.
There are questions in corners of my mind that lurk,
Like "How do the road gritters get to work?"
Answer me that, and you could win a cruise,
And here's Judy Tsuke to take us up to the news.
Are these my ultimate pyjamas?
Is this my final dressing gown?
I'm sending on this rhyme,
Deep in injury time,
When the evening sun goes down,
When the evening sun goes down,
When the evening sun goes down.
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