The Everyday Story Of Smalltown - XTC

Smalltown, snoring under blankets

Woken by the clank

It’s just the milkman’s dawn round

Smalltown, hiding undercovers

The lodgers and the lovers

Are asleep 'round Smalltown

Shiny gray black snake of bikes

He slithers

Bearing up the men and boys

To work

We’re standing in poplar lines

Making alarm clocks that’ll wake our wives up

Don’t ask us, we haven’t the time

We’re racing the hooter that’ll signal life’s up

Smalltown, crouching in the valley

Woken by the sally army

Sunday march round

Smalltown, coughing in the toilet

Now who on earth would spoil it

Would they pull down Smalltown?

If it’s all the same to you

Mrs. Progress

Think I’ll drink my Oxo up

And get away

It’s not that you’re repulsive to see

In your brand new catalog nylon nightie

You’re too fast for little old me

Next you’ll be telling me it’s 1990

I have lived here for a thousand years or maybe more

And I’ve sheltered all the children who have fought the wars

And as payment they make love in me

Squeaky old beds, in bicycle sheds

Inside of their heads, as singles and weds

As Tories and Reds

And that’s how I’m fed

And that’s how I’m fed

Smalltown, snoring under blankets

Woken by the clank

It’s just the milkman’s dawn round

Smalltown, hiding undercovers

The lodgers and the lovers

Are asleep 'round Smalltown

Smalltown, crouching in the valley

Woken by the sally army

Sunday march round

Smalltown, coughing in the toilet

Now who on earth would spoil it

Till you pull down Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown

Smalltown