Two Guitarists

We’re just two guitarists, and our plectrum’s getting old
And we squandered hours as students
Playing songs and jigs and shanties such as Pugwash
I do declare, there were times when we did not know
Which note followed which note where, and didn’t care

On the squeezebox and the banjo was a chap in red and black
In the sweater of a menace
On a BSA three fifty bike and singing flat
Yes it’s true.  He knew all the bass parts backwards
And he sang them that way too
Making harmonies as only he could do

Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie. Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie la la la la lie.

He studied nat’ral sciences and nat’rally studied hard – oh so hard
And he went and studied plastic bags in Wycombe
Small and big – just ask Plig.

But soon he sensed the fading charms of polyethylene
So he started selling offices and shops for Messrs Raffety and Buckland
He had to go – when he sold a G-plan factory to a man to whom he oughtn’t
For fifty quid and a crankshaft for his Norton

Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie. Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie la la la la lie.

But Dirge was not downheartened for he had a master plan; a handy man
So he set up with a screwdriver and hammer
What aptitude, how people queued

Into Benson came a maiden fair and Sally was her name
And she stole his heart and changed his life
But worried that he get stuck down a pothole, so she cried out
In her anguish; “please refrain,
“Lose some weight dear, lose some weight dear”
But the beer gut still remains…

Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie. Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie la la la la lie.
Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie. Lie la lie.  Lie la la la la la lie la la la la lie.