The leccy bill’s shocking, taxes are rising
Our money has gone down the drain
We splashed out for Christmas, it’s hardly surprising
January’s a financial pain

Inflation and strikes, war and recession
Everyone catching the flu
Rock and roll demigods dying by the dozen
Rents going right through the roof

Priory Meadow is under grey water
Eels are shopping in Boots
Southern Water dump more shit than they oughta
In the sea, and don’t give two hoots

Down on George Street the arcade’s ablaze
Arousing constabulary suspicion
Since the council had just refused permission
To an application for its demolition

On telly they’re selling sunny holidays
But we haven’t got enough cash
The end of the month’s still a fortnight away
And the thought brings us out in a rash

We’d like to escape into self-isolation
And wait for the spring to arrive
A whole population in warm hibernation
Having a bloody good skive

When summer comes round we’ll be sipping a beer
In sunshine and heatwaves unbroken
On the prom we’ll parade, or perhaps on the pier
Provided the pissing thing’s open

Blue Monday will be a bad memory
And winter we’ll all have forgot
We’ll be down by the sea feeling high and carefree
Complaining the weather’s too hot

We’ll laugh and we’ll cry, feel the lows and the highs
The smiles alternating with frowns
And perhaps realise, as the years pass us by,
That the ups can’t come round without downs.

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