London dull with grey skies
Pub food, beer and pork pies
Streets teeming with every race
City full of history, style and grace
Clubs full of scholarly grey men
Roast beef and yorkshire pud, amen
Berry Brothers and Rudd, vintners to the Queen
Established sometime in sixteen seventeen
Bouncing buddhas named the gym
Intent on making clients slim
Kiljoys for the food inclined
Bulging bellies, never mind
Lunch at the trendy Bistro Racine
After Jean Baptiste a poet Parisienne
Filet de Bouef au poivre, not bearnaise
The buddhas ever present, like a curse
Slinky Sloane rangers walk with passion
Sexy hipster shorts the latest fashion
Patterned tights slim legs cover
With calf high boots all in leather
Cheese, chocolate, venison and veal
The food halls of Harrods have every meal
Lunches and dinners to make you drool
Damn the bouncing buddhas, they are so cruel
Across the Bay of Biscay we travel
The delights of Madrid to unravel
The sun is shining throughout Spain
Leaving London with all the rain
Late night promenading with tapas and wine
Plazas where well dressed Senoras dine
Berating Senor when stopping to admire
Senoritas with fantasies of romance and desire
Black hawkers tout their contraband
Laid out on white cloth on the sand
Ready to be gathered and whisked away
The instant the carabinieri join the fray
The night ends in the early morning
Street cleaners up before the dawning
The sun rises bringing a new day
New places to go, no time to stay
Paseo de Prado with bookstalls lined
Prose ancient, modern, every kind
Leafy gardens, manicured plants with lawn
A concept botanical did King Carlos spawn
Don't know where to go so follow the throng
To Museo de Prado with culture strong
Wall to wall de Goya drawings so fine
Dark oils of Rubens chilling the spine
On to Retiro where brass bands play
Families and children spend the day
Rowboats carry lovers young and old
The sun on water glitters like gold
As evening falls and lights come on
The time comes to sigh and move on
By fast train to Cordoba, no clickety clack
Just look forward no looking back
The country is green, olives abound
Cork trees stipple the fertile ground
To trade in oil is the reason we're here
But first to enjoy the tapas and beer.
And Bugger the Bouncing Buddha's
Pub food, beer and pork pies
Streets teeming with every race
City full of history, style and grace
Clubs full of scholarly grey men
Roast beef and yorkshire pud, amen
Berry Brothers and Rudd, vintners to the Queen
Established sometime in sixteen seventeen
Bouncing buddhas named the gym
Intent on making clients slim
Kiljoys for the food inclined
Bulging bellies, never mind
Lunch at the trendy Bistro Racine
After Jean Baptiste a poet Parisienne
Filet de Bouef au poivre, not bearnaise
The buddhas ever present, like a curse
Slinky Sloane rangers walk with passion
Sexy hipster shorts the latest fashion
Patterned tights slim legs cover
With calf high boots all in leather
Cheese, chocolate, venison and veal
The food halls of Harrods have every meal
Lunches and dinners to make you drool
Damn the bouncing buddhas, they are so cruel
Across the Bay of Biscay we travel
The delights of Madrid to unravel
The sun is shining throughout Spain
Leaving London with all the rain
Late night promenading with tapas and wine
Plazas where well dressed Senoras dine
Berating Senor when stopping to admire
Senoritas with fantasies of romance and desire
Black hawkers tout their contraband
Laid out on white cloth on the sand
Ready to be gathered and whisked away
The instant the carabinieri join the fray
The night ends in the early morning
Street cleaners up before the dawning
The sun rises bringing a new day
New places to go, no time to stay
Paseo de Prado with bookstalls lined
Prose ancient, modern, every kind
Leafy gardens, manicured plants with lawn
A concept botanical did King Carlos spawn
Don't know where to go so follow the throng
To Museo de Prado with culture strong
Wall to wall de Goya drawings so fine
Dark oils of Rubens chilling the spine
On to Retiro where brass bands play
Families and children spend the day
Rowboats carry lovers young and old
The sun on water glitters like gold
As evening falls and lights come on
The time comes to sigh and move on
By fast train to Cordoba, no clickety clack
Just look forward no looking back
The country is green, olives abound
Cork trees stipple the fertile ground
To trade in oil is the reason we're here
But first to enjoy the tapas and beer.
And Bugger the Bouncing Buddha's
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