People of Croscombe

 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