Uffington Wassail Lyrics
| Song | Uffington Wassail |
| Artist | Half Man Half Biscuit |
| Album | Trouble Over Bridgewater |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Oh say I’m not the only one to fill with trepidation | |
| Walking across the forecourt of the fire station | |
| My wariness consumes me, yet still protects me from | |
| The dimmer switch, and the membership of Britannia Music Club | |
| I adventured for a fortnight in the valley of the Rhone | |
| Defied capricious mistrals on which tragedies are blown | |
| Dismounting at the roadside to lubricate my chain | |
| I heard the hounds of retribution barking their refrain: | |
| Let’s go the Met Bar, and cause an altercation | |
| Let’s go the Groucho, and snap at rakish heels | |
| For a month I went all floppy just to see where I’d end up | |
| The morgue was my considered guess, or maybe Martinique | |
| The stern grind of reality however took its course | |
| I stayed exactly where I was and suffered endless Feltz | |
| Because you had a daughter, and chose to call her Rain | |
| Because you didn’t indicate to go down Woodchurch Lane | |
| Your Am-Dram class has been postponed indefinitely | |
| Because the root of Jesse’s just turned up in glorious majesty | |
| Singing Sealed Knot Society, let’s see you try and do this one: | |
| Luton Town – Millwall, nineteen eighty-five | |
| Hand me down my silver trumpets | |
| Sound the revolution bell | |
| There’s a Cher impersonator | |
| Rising up in Israel | |
| Late Lunch audience, we’ve got all your addresses! | |
| Lazy greedy farmers, pick your own strawberries! | |
| Is that our phone ringing, or is it on the telly? | |
| Let’s do the bongo-laced twenty-second album | |
| Vreni Schneider – you’re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider – you’re the queen of the slopes! | |
| Vreni Schneider – you’re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider – you’re the queen of the slopes! |
| Oh say I' m not the only one to fill with trepidation | |
| Walking across the forecourt of the fire station | |
| My wariness consumes me, yet still protects me from | |
| The dimmer switch, and the membership of Britannia Music Club | |
| I adventured for a fortnight in the valley of the Rhone | |
| Defied capricious mistrals on which tragedies are blown | |
| Dismounting at the roadside to lubricate my chain | |
| I heard the hounds of retribution barking their refrain: | |
| Let' s go the Met Bar, and cause an altercation | |
| Let' s go the Groucho, and snap at rakish heels | |
| For a month I went all floppy just to see where I' d end up | |
| The morgue was my considered guess, or maybe Martinique | |
| The stern grind of reality however took its course | |
| I stayed exactly where I was and suffered endless Feltz | |
| Because you had a daughter, and chose to call her Rain | |
| Because you didn' t indicate to go down Woodchurch Lane | |
| Your AmDram class has been postponed indefinitely | |
| Because the root of Jesse' s just turned up in glorious majesty | |
| Singing Sealed Knot Society, let' s see you try and do this one: | |
| Luton Town Millwall, nineteen eightyfive | |
| Hand me down my silver trumpets | |
| Sound the revolution bell | |
| There' s a Cher impersonator | |
| Rising up in Israel | |
| Late Lunch audience, we' ve got all your addresses! | |
| Lazy greedy farmers, pick your own strawberries! | |
| Is that our phone ringing, or is it on the telly? | |
| Let' s do the bongolaced twentysecond album | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re the queen of the slopes! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re the queen of the slopes! |
| Oh say I' m not the only one to fill with trepidation | |
| Walking across the forecourt of the fire station | |
| My wariness consumes me, yet still protects me from | |
| The dimmer switch, and the membership of Britannia Music Club | |
| I adventured for a fortnight in the valley of the Rhone | |
| Defied capricious mistrals on which tragedies are blown | |
| Dismounting at the roadside to lubricate my chain | |
| I heard the hounds of retribution barking their refrain: | |
| Let' s go the Met Bar, and cause an altercation | |
| Let' s go the Groucho, and snap at rakish heels | |
| For a month I went all floppy just to see where I' d end up | |
| The morgue was my considered guess, or maybe Martinique | |
| The stern grind of reality however took its course | |
| I stayed exactly where I was and suffered endless Feltz | |
| Because you had a daughter, and chose to call her Rain | |
| Because you didn' t indicate to go down Woodchurch Lane | |
| Your AmDram class has been postponed indefinitely | |
| Because the root of Jesse' s just turned up in glorious majesty | |
| Singing Sealed Knot Society, let' s see you try and do this one: | |
| Luton Town Millwall, nineteen eightyfive | |
| Hand me down my silver trumpets | |
| Sound the revolution bell | |
| There' s a Cher impersonator | |
| Rising up in Israel | |
| Late Lunch audience, we' ve got all your addresses! | |
| Lazy greedy farmers, pick your own strawberries! | |
| Is that our phone ringing, or is it on the telly? | |
| Let' s do the bongolaced twentysecond album | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re the queen of the slopes! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re my downhill lady! | |
| Vreni Schneider you' re the queen of the slopes! |
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