Emma

Won't it be great, to dance on fresh grass say summer's here again, sadly not a cruise, famous nights have passed, all our stuff cut loose, don't worry about gain, at supper wait till last, they will find us grain, forget what is our due, dispense with needing cash, just serve us up some gruel, we’ll walk again in grace, spit royally upon the mat, consider what remains, we can never choose, if we're posh or tat, all we have's our fuel, know what we celebrate, sun bounces down like glass, bring cognac to our taste, life really is a gas.