People from Croscombe
They barter and they bite
Just like Romans in an amphitheatre tonight
Oh people from Croscombe
They'd sell their grandmother's teeth
And still get a second estimate
For their own financial relief
Now I'm not saying people from Croscombe
Are cheap, it's just that they're mean
And will scramble round for every pound
And penny, even raid the wishing well
But that's just what comes from living in a dell
Like Croscombe
People from Croscombe
They strain for the Sun, because you see they never
Really get it, they have to strain their necks at it
And they grow tall and thin like Sun flowers
People from Croscombe are heliotropes
They clamber over their neighbours' walls
They're so tightly packed like cattle in stalls
And have no greater pleasure than to bicker
Or discuss their neighbour's lives
There's nothing more satisfying than
Chit chat with the promise of knives
And vengeance is a dish best served cold
They've learnt that from living in some other metropole
Like London or Bristol any number you care to mention
But they've never forgotten their just desserts
Revenge for what was meted out to them by extension
And now they're in the bear pit, in the colosseum
They can watch their neighbours getting eaten alive by lions
Or they can bet on gladiators
For once they heard about a place called Rome
That there was some foreign power better
And they'll pay their tax and all
Be so tactical until their Emperor
summons their services by letter
And then they'll dob in their neighbours
For traitors
People in Croscombe, but that's only what
I've heard of them
I don't tend to think of them
Very much at all
They just ask me for an estimate
I say I'll see you at four
Then they want a quotation
I recite shakespeare
When that doesn't satisfy
I try Mark Antony and Cleopatra
Then they get offended and say
I only try to flatter
Oh I can't seem to gather
What the people of Croscombe
want at all
