I placed a Torphichen order at the Torphichen Inn
I'll have a long Torphichen glass of Torphichen gin
And what do you do for fun around these Torphichen parts?
You got any Torphichen snooker or Torphichen darts?
Well it turns out there's a Torphichen Inn football team
And their away strip's the Torphichen best I've ever seen
You put your Torphichen Inn, your Torphichen out
West Lothian, out, shake it all about
Get a Torphichen husband or a Torphichen wife
If you're Torphichen tired, get a Torphichen life
Oh, all I want for Christmas is a Torphichen Inn away kit
If that's not Torphichen much to ask for
I can impress the fashionistas down on Torphichen high street
Be a Torphichen dandy and a Torphichen bore
Between Bathgate and Linlithgow's where'll you'll find this place
But look out for the cartoonist off his Torphichen face
The Knights Hospitaller of St. John
Made their Scottish headquarters at Torphichen
But when I first went there, the village said nut
You canny get a drink - we're Torphichen shut
They only come alive from Thursday to Sunday
They're Torphichen lazy to open on a Torphichen Monday
A shiny shirted shyster drawing Torphichen toons
Who came from the land of Oor Wullie and The Broons
Drew a Tam O Shanter mural at Torphichen central
But you can only see it at weekends which is Torphichen mental
Oh, Torphichen Inn
Torphichen
Torphichen Inn
In Torphichen
99% of Little England love Nigel Farage
He's a cross between a gargoyle and a bullfrog at large
It should be pronounced 'Faridge,' I don't say 'gararge'
You won't find him in Claridges, or should I say 'Clararge'
Oh he's a cheeky chappy millionaire
If you want to drop him a line
He's a permanent fixture on BBC's Question Time
He's always in a pub, I bet he drinks lager and lime
Cos he's such a fucking dick he makes Russell Brand look like Einstein
Quest que c'est?
Fa - fa - fa - fa- fa
Fa - fa- fa- Farage
If you're stuck in traffic you can blame foreigners
If it's raining men you can blame the gay bars
Everybody’s doing the George Osborne Stance...
No no no no, no more Locomotion
No no, no more Dancing In The Street
No no no no, no more Mashed Potato
No no, no more shuffling of the feet
Everybody’s doing the George Osborne Stance...
Keep your arms as rigid as a juggernaut
Clench your fists, point your knuckles straight ahead
Do your best to look like a statesman
Then try and pretend to look vertically dead
Everybody’s doing the George Osborne Stance...
Praise the Lord you all look so beautiful
Legs akimbo, solid brass neck
Shine your shoes and head for the Conference
Fuck the poor and keep the crowd in check
Everybody’s doing the George Osborne Stance...
The Chancellor of the Exchequer went to Rome to see the pope
The Chancellor of the Exchequer went to Rome to see the pope
The Chancellor of the Exchequer went to Rome to see the pope
And the pope said to his aide
Who the fuck's Alistair Darling?
Who the fuck's Alistair Darling?
Who the fuck's Alistair Darling?
And do you think his pubes are black or white?
Now how did I guess
You were going to express
Your disdain at the crane
With the bright fairy lights
And you’d moan at the snow
‘Cos your car wouldn’t go
Oh it’s cliched
To be cynical
At Christmas
You don’t have a tree
And your smile has a fee
All the same, here’s a card
For your boring facade
Jingle Bells, piney smells
All the boys and the girls
Say it’s cliched
To be cynical
At Christmas
Oh it’s cliched
To be cynical
At Christmas
See how we yawn
At your bile and your scorn
It’s a beautiful day
Peace on Earth has been played
Make a noise with your toys
And ignore the killjoys
‘Cos it’s cliched
To be cynical
At Christmas
Oh it’s cliched
To be cynical
At Christmas
I saw three ships
Come sailing in
Come sailing in
Come sailing in
I saw three ships
Come sailing in
On Christmas Day
In the morning
