When I Get Back to Blighty Songtext
von Paul Heaton + Jacqui Abbott
When I Get Back to Blighty Songtext
When I get back to Blighty
I′m gonna kiss that shore
'Cause the further that I sail from thee
I only love thee more
When I get back to Blighty
I may actually love you less
′Cause you may be, 'cause you may be pointing
A little too far west
The bus driver ain't smokin′
Or swiggin′ from black can
But whilst he was texting
He nearly killed a man
The bus queue all Twittered
About the near miss
And the rag 'n′ bone man's wearing high-vis
And the rag ′n' bone man′s wearing high-vis
See, the spirit of old Blighty
Ain't making deals on phone
It's drinking in a backstreet pub
′Til 12 midnight alone
The real Clint Eastwood
The real Lee Van Cleef
Ended up in a bar in Hull
Minus all of their teeth
When I get back to Blighty
I′ll be sure to kiss that coast
'Cause of all the rotten places
I miss this rot the most
When I get back to Blighty
I won′t salute your queen
I'll salute the real people
The history they′ve seen
The phone ain't working
And the bus shelter′s smashed
And all the 'Help for Harry's′
Are bleeding for your cash
Now the shock and awe
Replaced pie and mash, oh
This country is out on the lash
This country is out on the lash
See, the spirit of old Blighty
Ain′t making deals on phone
It's drinking in a backstreet pub
′Til 12 midnight alone
The real Clint Eastwood
The real Lee Van Cleef
Ended up in a bar in Hull
Minus all of their teeth
It's 11 a.m
It′s blue upon blue in the sky
But everyone around agrees
Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
A white T-shirt and faded jeans
Just, just an ordinary guy
But prisoner to his tax returns
Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
Oh, he must die, oh, yeah
Ooh woah, woah, woah
He must die
Ooh, yeah, Phil Collins must die
He must die, oh, yeah
Woah, woah, woah
Yeah, die, ooh, ooh, woah, woah
I′m gonna kiss that shore
'Cause the further that I sail from thee
I only love thee more
When I get back to Blighty
I may actually love you less
′Cause you may be, 'cause you may be pointing
A little too far west
The bus driver ain't smokin′
Or swiggin′ from black can
But whilst he was texting
He nearly killed a man
The bus queue all Twittered
About the near miss
And the rag 'n′ bone man's wearing high-vis
And the rag ′n' bone man′s wearing high-vis
See, the spirit of old Blighty
Ain't making deals on phone
It's drinking in a backstreet pub
′Til 12 midnight alone
The real Clint Eastwood
The real Lee Van Cleef
Ended up in a bar in Hull
Minus all of their teeth
When I get back to Blighty
I′ll be sure to kiss that coast
'Cause of all the rotten places
I miss this rot the most
When I get back to Blighty
I won′t salute your queen
I'll salute the real people
The history they′ve seen
The phone ain't working
And the bus shelter′s smashed
And all the 'Help for Harry's′
Are bleeding for your cash
Now the shock and awe
Replaced pie and mash, oh
This country is out on the lash
This country is out on the lash
See, the spirit of old Blighty
Ain′t making deals on phone
It's drinking in a backstreet pub
′Til 12 midnight alone
The real Clint Eastwood
The real Lee Van Cleef
Ended up in a bar in Hull
Minus all of their teeth
It's 11 a.m
It′s blue upon blue in the sky
But everyone around agrees
Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
A white T-shirt and faded jeans
Just, just an ordinary guy
But prisoner to his tax returns
Oh, Phil Collins, Phil Collins must die
Oh, he must die, oh, yeah
Ooh woah, woah, woah
He must die
Ooh, yeah, Phil Collins must die
He must die, oh, yeah
Woah, woah, woah
Yeah, die, ooh, ooh, woah, woah
Writer(s): Jonathan Ralph Noblett, Paul David Heaton Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com