I've just walked round Old Barlick town,
And don't like what I see.
These poncy shops that have sprung up,
To sell to you and me.
There's fancy frocks and fancy shoes,
And fancy other things.
There's coffee this and coffee that,
Bracelets and golden rings.
No screws or nails, no pot of paint,
No wallpaper or copper pipe,
Just one butcher there is left,
And he don't sell tripe.
