I still believe in Sunday as being a day of rest  And maybe it's because I'm an Irishman  That I like Dublin best  Still whose who are you to tell me I'm alright Fred  But don't let that worry your son  For when he grows up and gets blown out of here  Have yourself A-tomic bomb  Now introducing Maisie (Maisie) and on my right  Will be  Both of whom are here now represented by  Our good friend U.V.I.P.  Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommend  Only if you like rocking jazz  Intermingled with an ounce of U double K  full of eastern Raj Matazz  Close your eyes and the door don't forge-t  If you do I take it you know what to expect  Still whose who are you to tell me I'm alright  Fred but don't let that worry your son  For when he grows up and gets blown out of here  Have yourself a (really)  Tour-de-force-a (yearly)  non-de-plume A-tomic bomb  Feeling tired one degree under Oh-  What you need is picking up so off you go  (Get picked up you know)  Whose mundane conjectoral I'd recommend  Only if you like rocking jazz  Intermingled with an ounce of U double K  Full of Eastern (promised)  Without a doubting (Thomas)  Polynesian Raj Matazz  Nothing older than time nothing sweeter than wine  Nothing physically, recklessly, hopelessly blind  Nothing I couldn't say  Nothing why 'cos today  Nothing rhymed