I thought it was a joke when you called me up
And said you needed ironing
There were creases in your facial lining

(Chorus)
Won't you have a little rest
When they turn out the lights
A nice cup of tea and you'll be feeling alright
Don't fret, you'll recover yet you'll see
So keep on sending dirty postcards back to me
Back to me, back to me, back to me

I thought it was alark when you phoned my dad
And told him that you'd have to catch the measles
Your flesh was being ripped to shreds by weasels

(Chorus)

T'was on the Norfolk Broads we were punting one day
You received a nasty bump on the head
And you've never been the same
Since needless to say
How I wish it could have been me instead

I thought it was a prank when you wired the Pope
To say you'd a vision of an aardark
Who was perpetrating ghastly deeds with Saint Mark

(Chorus)