January Git Lyrics - Gilbert Osullivan

I still believe in Sunday as being a day of rest 

And maybe it's because I'm an Irishman 

That I like Dublin best 

Still whose who are you to tell me I'm alright Fred 

But don't let that worry your son 

For when he grows up and gets blown out of here 

Have yourself A-tomic bomb 

Now introducing Maisie (Maisie) and on my right 

Will be 

Both of whom are here now represented by 

Our good friend U.V.I.P. 

Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommend 

Only if you like rocking jazz 

Intermingled with an ounce of you double K 

Full of eastern Raj Matazz 

Close your eyes and the door don't forge-t 

If you do I take it you know what to expect 

Still whose who are you to tell me I'm alright 

Fred but don't let that worry your son 

For when he grows up and gets blown out of here 

Have yourself a (really) 

Tour-de-force-a (yearly) 

Non-de-plume A-tomic bomb 

Feeling tired one degree under Oh- 

What you need is picking up so off you go 

(Get picked up you know) 

Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommend 

Only if you like rocking jazz 

Intermingled with an ounce of you double K 

Full of Eastern (promised) 

Without a doubting (Thomas) 

Polynesian Raj Matazz 

Nothing older than time nothing sweeter than wine 

Nothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blind 

Nothing I couldn't say 

Nothing why ''cause today 

Nothing rhymed