So, old boys rool, but some of ’em drool. Joe would be drawing his pension now; mellowed into his sagacity. Having just passed 67 (yep that’s when I will get mine), Joe would have been counting all his government spondulix with his guitar picking thumb! He’s probably up there in Heaven now telling ’em you only need three chords. Unless he went straight to hell, of course. Or maybe he just stayed around and waited to rise again and meet us all here, one day.
Every Wednesday morning, at about the hour of ten
I give the queen my autograph, she gives me the yen
The man behind the counter smiles, the door man bows again
Just another day down on the dole queue
But the government must love me ’cause they keep me out of work
They must be saving me for something special
Maybe it’s the job of rolling spliffs for Captain Kirk
Or giving Miss Lovelace a pubic hairdo.
One of those days in England with a sword in every pond
And birds in every garden in the land
One of those days in England when the passion never ends
A slowly moving season by the fire of my friends.