ترانه:
Richard Thompson Mock Tudor

Bathsheba smiles She smiles and veins turn to ice She smiles and heads bow down She works the room Air-kisses every victim twice She spreads her joy

This time you hurt me You really did it this time you did Did you count your fingers after shaking my hand God forbid Riff raff crawling from the slums

I don't want to be your friend anymore You've got fifty friends knocking at your door Life is short so please understand I'm fully qualified to be your

I stole your style Hope you don't mind I must try to be all I can be It suits me more Than it ever suited you Hope you like the new me I stole your

Oh Gillian she's a Doncaster lass Trains it down on the quarter past Friday night leaves the kids at home And struts her stuff on the Euston Road Saying

That's all. That's all there was. Say Amen. Close the door. She gave as much as she had to give Please don't ask for more Please don't ask for more That

Oh the last bus has gone Or maybe I'm wrong It just doesn't exist And the words that flew Between me and you I must be crossed off your list So I'm walking

Well there's a house in an alley In the squats and low-rise Of a town with no future But that's where my future lies It's a secret, but no secret It

Oh trouble becomes you, it cuts you down to my size And you never were less than perfect in my eyes But I lost my way somehow For three hard winters