My new house You should see my house My new house You should see my new house
No rabbit hutch about it I bought it off the baptists I get the bills And I get miffed At the damn polyester fills The interior is a prison unconscious
My new house Keep away from my new house
Wash the drawers of pills It's got window sills With lead centred in the middle of them
My new house Is no beatnik hang-out
That Halifax copter Sure dropped me a cropper
Sometimes I think I'll ring Swine-Tax And go back to my flat
But my new house I do love the mad things about it
According to the postman It's like the bleeding Bank of England
Creosote tar fence surrounds it Those razor blades eject when I press eject
My new house Could easily crack a mortal, it
The spare room is fine Though a little haunted By Mr. Reagan who had hung himself at number 13 Mr. Reagan hung himself at number 13