“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