You'll never see me trying to raise Cain
You'll never see me wear a suit of green
There's a slip-road up right ahead
Leading to the agragarian
But I'm city born and bred
Too many car-fumes in my head
Just a well-read punk peasant
But you'd think a country man would understand
The devil makes work for idle hands
M5 6-7 pm
And the man who pretends he knows it all
Is destined to a Mighty Fall
Gets into your house with cheer
Then proceeds to take all you've got to offer
This is not an autobahn
It's an evil roundabout
That leads to the Haywain
And you'll never see good trains again
In late 60s, my daddy said to me
You'll never see trams and clogs again
Now they roam the city
Can these people not understand
The devil makes work for idle hands
M5 6-7 pm
The devil makes work for idle hands
M5 to the country straight ahead
It's stuffed to the gills with crusty brown bread
Can they not understand
There's nothing worse than a bored man?
M5, 6-7 PM
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