 | The Cavalier daily Thursday, February 11, 1971 |  |
Words
For A
Beatles
Album
That Will
Never Be
I'M A LOSER
We're the losers, we're the losers,
And we're not what we appeared to be.
And we're not what we appeared to be.
For all the loot we picked up on the way,
What have we left to console us today?
We were a group in a million, my friend,
Who could have known we would lose in the end?
What have we left to console us today?
We were a group in a million, my friend,
Who could have known we would lose in the end?
We're the losers, and we've lost something that's dear to us,
We're the losers, and it's only now made clear to us.
We're the losers, and it's only now made clear to us.
Although we laugh and we act like a clown,
Beneath this mask, we are wearing a frown.
Our shares are falling like rain from the sky.
Is it for them or ourselves that we cry?
Beneath this mask, we are wearing a frown.
Our shares are falling like rain from the sky.
Is it for them or ourselves that we cry?
We're the losers, and we've lost something that's dear to us,
We're the losers, and the shareholders all fear for us.
We're the losers, and the shareholders all fear for us.
What did we do to deserve such a fate?
Served up ourselves to the world on a plate.
Became a piece of Financial Times chat,
And there was nowhere to go after that.
Served up ourselves to the world on a plate.
Became a piece of Financial Times chat,
And there was nowhere to go after that.
We're the losers, and we've lost something that's dear to us,
We're the losers, and you've heard the last you'll hear from us.
We're the losers, and you've heard the last you'll hear from us.
ELEANOR RIGBY
Ah look at all the lonely Beatles.
Ah, look at all the loney Beatles.
Ah, look at all the loney Beatles.
Mister McCartney issues a writ
From the farm where he spends every day
Hidden away.
John at his window, wearing the face
That his wife did the modeling for,
Chains up his door.
From the farm where he spends every day
Hidden away.
John at his window, wearing the face
That his wife did the modeling for,
Chains up his door.
All the lonely Beatles, where have they all come from?
All the lonely Beatles, where do they all belong?
All the lonely Beatles, where do they all belong?
Look at George Harrison writing the words of a mantra
That no one can sing.
Doing his thing.
Look at him working, tuning a string in the night
When there's nobody there.
Does he still care?
That no one can sing.
Doing his thing.
Look at him working, tuning a string in the night
When there's nobody there.
Does he still care?
All the lonely Beatles, where have they all come from?
All the lonely Beatles, where do they all belong?
All the lonely Beatles, where do they all belong?
Ringo Starr-Starkie went into films and was buried
Along with his name.
Nobody came.
Mister McCartney, wiping the dirt from his hands
As he walks from the court,
Has he sold short?
Along with his name.
Nobody came.
Mister McCartney, wiping the dirt from his hands
As he walks from the court,
Has he sold short?
Ah, look at all the lonely Beatles.
LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DIAMONDS
Picture yourself in a bank by the river
With green paper trees and bright silver skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A teller with large copper eyes.
Crisp oblong flowers in blue and in brown,
Towering over your head.
Look for the broker with cash in his bag,
And he's gone.
Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
(Note: It has been suggested, especially
considering the title, that this lyric has
something to do with the dreaded £ s.d.)
With green paper trees and bright silver skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A teller with large copper eyes.
Crisp oblong flowers in blue and in brown,
Towering over your head.
Look for the broker with cash in his bag,
And he's gone.
Lucy in the sky with diamonds,
Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
(Note: It has been suggested, especially
considering the title, that this lyric has
something to do with the dreaded £ s.d.)
SIXTY-FOUR
When we get older, losing our hair,
A week or so from now,
Will you still be listening to our LPs?
Or wondering "Why did we buy there?
Will Alan Freeman, will Jimmy Young.
Play us any more?
Or will you just say "Them? They had their day
Back in '64"?
A week or so from now,
Will you still be listening to our LPs?
Or wondering "Why did we buy there?
Will Alan Freeman, will Jimmy Young.
Play us any more?
Or will you just say "Them? They had their day
Back in '64"?
WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS
What would you do if I issued a writ,
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Suppose you had heard that I don't give a shit
Would you turn round and gang up on me?
Would you stand up and walk out on me?
Suppose you had heard that I don't give a shit
Would you turn round and gang up on me?
I'll turn rude, with a little help from my friends,
Start a feud, with a little help from my friends.
And get screwed, with a little help from my friends.
Start a feud, with a little help from my friends.
And get screwed, with a little help from my friends.
Copyright Punch, London
| The Cavalier daily Thursday, February 11, 1971 | |