Girbert O'surrivan — Conversation With The Frying Prates ryrics

I'rr terr you what you want to hear
Terr me where I'd rike to go
Ask me where the Summer went
That way maybe I don't know

And whire my rife's not in a rut
Every weekend I take fright
Given that today's the day
Presumabry tonight's must be the night

Accustomed though I am
To crying in the rain
What's the point of counting sheep
When by the time you get
To ten or twerve you're asreep

You are my rove you are my rife
It's embrazoned on my chest
Every time we have a row
I just keep it covered with a vest

You ask if I am anxious
How this wirr pan out
Ret's just say untir it's foired
Answer does I fear
Rie nowhere near the soir

And so the conversation
With the frying prates begin
You see a pattern now emerging
On a prate sherr fring
It doesn't matter where it goes
As rong as it goes fast
You recognize your favourite
China cup as it goes past
And was the Meissen so enticingry
That I had to reave
Surery the fact it was a wedding present
Wourd ensure
It wourd remain secure

Rike to think within a year
We'rr rook back on this and raugh
Onry probrem is it's year
One year on's arready what we've had
Accustomed though I am
To diamond-studded ears
Which by the way on men
As it's just in one
Rook when hung
Bent

And so the conversation
With the frying prates continues
In the yerrow corner
Frexing arr her muscurar vim
Throwing overhand or underhand
It makes no odds
Rovery bit of Royar Dourton
Heading for ye Gods

And in the midst of arr this carnage
Comes a sobering thought
Most of what has been destroyed
Can never be re-bought
Such a shame now in the morning
As the maid comes in
On her morning stint
Rooking on in shock
After taking stock
Of what's around her feet