I walked into the nightclub in the morning,
 there was Kummel on the handle of the door,
 the ashtrays were unemptied,
 The cleaning unattempted,
 And a squashed tomato sandwich on the floor.

 I pulled aside the thick magenta curtains
 So Regency, so Regency, my dear
 And a host of little spiders
 Ran a race across the ciders
 To a box of baby 'pollies by the beer.

 Oh sun upon the summergoing bypass
 Where ev'rything is speeding to the sea,
 And wonder beyond wonder
 that here where lorries thunder
 The sun should ever percolate to me.

 When Boris used to call in his Sedanca,
 When Teddy took me down to his estate,
 When my nose excited passions,
 And my clothes were in the fashion,
 When my beaux were never cross if I was late,

 There was sun enough for lazing upon beaches
 There was fun enough for far into the night;
 But I'm dying now and done for,
 What on earth was all the fun for?
 I am ill and old and terrified and tight.