Come into the garden, Francis Maude
For my Jerry (Mc)Cann of unleaded is blown
Come into the garden, Maude,
I'm left here smouldering all alone
(That damn Woodbine sticking out of my mouth
Seeds of unintended arson hath sown...)
I lit up in a cloud of dawntide mists
With the planet of Love on high
Now I realise I musta been pisst
When a bolt of lightning struck from the sky
All night have the fire engines roared
Emergency tenders arrived quite soon
Woz treated much later in A&E
Under the light of a waxing moon
So I said to the surgeon 'There is but one
With whom he has heart to be gay'
When will the red tops leave him alone
Now there's nothing more left to say?
Come into the garden, Maude
Your petrol advice was crap
I'll need cosmetic surgery now
That I'm a fuel crisis statistics mishap.