“Demon fiend, leave your tomb
Seek out the Virgin womb”
Hey Chris from Future Doom
You left your lyrics in the practice room
“Cackling hag astride the broom
What dread this upon the spume?”
Hey Chris I understand your gloom
But come on, rock up, you’re from Ilfracombe

Did you leave them there so that when
The band who practice 8 ’til 10
May read them and perhaps then say
We gotta meet this cat today!

Whoh-oh Black Sabbath, bam-a-lam
Whoh-oh Black Sabbath, bam-a-lam

You drink too much Oranjeboom
Your jaw juts out like Mart Poom
Dr. Desperate I presume?
You left these in the waiting room
How much more can I exhume?
How much more can you consume?

Oh let the light from the lighthouse shine on me
Let the light from the lighthouse shine on me
Let the light from the lighthouse shine on me tonight