Can you play electric organ
Can you play the lie of the land
Can you paint a better tartan
Sudden apples strewed on the dawn

Butcher birds and Jackie Hangmans
Double digit fugitive
Intra-Schengen cars and blam blams
A bigger scope, the lie of the land

Manifestly social sculpture lines
For all those well-trained men of the world
Never let me down you vultures then
Pick my bones clean, pick them all clean

I would play my big bassoon
(Big bassoon, like the bard's)
I would harvest marble hours
(On the moon, to glitter the culture)

I would make some animal
(But not too soon, you just wait and see)
I would dig no frightening hole
(To stop, to stop, to stop it on me)

Finger pulse and all the parlay
Sinking faster than half of the nine
I have been to Harlem Dover
I have seen the end of the line
Brick it up, the perfect England
Black it in your coronet hearts

I would play my big bassoon
(Big bassoon, like the bard's)
I would harvest marble hours
(On the moon, to glitter the culture)