They used to say that there was chemicals under the ground at Jumbo's.
Outside Brian and Gary's.
Opposite the wonky lift shaft there was something shifty,
under the concrete.
They said you'd hear the echoes of the Grunwicks strike,
the whispers of the dead from world war two,
out in the backroom.
But Ethel was oblivious
just sitting outside letting it all roll by.
She really didn't mind.
No hurry.
Didn't even mind when the meat heads locked horns on the corner,
regular as clockwork.
'cos number 77 weren't quite what Ethel was reckoning on she,
wasn't keen.
Starting out over a cold and frosty graveyeard decided it was time,
time to leave.
See the sights,
get a little bit of life between her and the Pinner road.
She went off round the town and had the time of her life until she came rolling home,
in pieces.
A black expression in her eyes.
Just sat there
letting it roll by
broken hearted.
You can still just about make out Tufty's graffiti over,
number 16.
About the only patr of the street that Ethel would recognise from,
way back when.
But the faces in the bank are still the same,
if just a little bit older, wrinklier, sagging and grey like me.
But that's all fine by me today.
I really don't mind.
No worries.
I'm happy just to sit and let it all go tick tock,
regular as clockwork.
It must be 20 years since I've seen Ethel and I wonder how she is?
Does she still have the time to sit and reminisce on all those years ago?
And I wonder if she still thinks about all the times we
had back when the road ahead was ours?
I hope she's part of something good and happy to watch it all go rolling by.
I hope she doesn't mind?
No worries.
Happy just to sit and let it all go tick tock,
regular as clockwork.
Let it all go rolling on.
Outside Brian and Gary's.
Opposite the wonky lift shaft there was something shifty,
under the concrete.
They said you'd hear the echoes of the Grunwicks strike,
the whispers of the dead from world war two,
out in the backroom.
But Ethel was oblivious
just sitting outside letting it all roll by.
She really didn't mind.
No hurry.
Didn't even mind when the meat heads locked horns on the corner,
regular as clockwork.
'cos number 77 weren't quite what Ethel was reckoning on she,
wasn't keen.
Starting out over a cold and frosty graveyeard decided it was time,
time to leave.
See the sights,
get a little bit of life between her and the Pinner road.
She went off round the town and had the time of her life until she came rolling home,
in pieces.
A black expression in her eyes.
Just sat there
letting it roll by
broken hearted.
You can still just about make out Tufty's graffiti over,
number 16.
About the only patr of the street that Ethel would recognise from,
way back when.
But the faces in the bank are still the same,
if just a little bit older, wrinklier, sagging and grey like me.
But that's all fine by me today.
I really don't mind.
No worries.
I'm happy just to sit and let it all go tick tock,
regular as clockwork.
It must be 20 years since I've seen Ethel and I wonder how she is?
Does she still have the time to sit and reminisce on all those years ago?
And I wonder if she still thinks about all the times we
had back when the road ahead was ours?
I hope she's part of something good and happy to watch it all go rolling by.
I hope she doesn't mind?
No worries.
Happy just to sit and let it all go tick tock,
regular as clockwork.
Let it all go rolling on.