I miss walking through the park
And staring at some girl.
I miss the Royal Park Hotel
And drinking 'til I hurl.
Just bumping into Pissed Fat Dave,
On Hyde Park Road or street,
And hearing of some stupid scheme,
Would make my day complete.
The lovely lads who walk round town,
They're shaved heads proud aloft,
They'll spare some time to speak to you,
And smack you cos yer soft.
Leeds girls with their high heels on
And strappy dresses all.
They say 'you wot?', if you mention art,
But shag you in the hall.
The students boys around Hyde Park
Brought life and love and smiles,
Those nice young boys so made me grin,
Though gave me painful piles.
The student girls I do recall,
They laughed at all my jokes,
And being young did not complain,
When I shot off in 3 strokes.
In Leeds, the weather's cold and grim,
And rain falls by the bucket,
But London's sweaty, damp and warm,
This is the end, oh fuck it.