You Don't Need Money

Nobody's got any money in the Summer

Oh dear me, what a terrible drag

I couldn't get very much numb-er than in Summer

Beseeching the rent-man

To be soft as he can

'Cause I've got a little money coming when I sell my MBE

All the folkie student population wearing rucksacks

Taking my meal ticket over the seas

And half the blasted idiots are stuck in Yugoslavia

With hardly a Dinar

And looking no cleaner

Than a Chinese wrestler's jock-strap

Cooked in chip fat

On a greasy day

And think what money could do for my tummy

And think what my tummy could do for my mind

And think what my mind could do for the world

For the stars and infinity

Has anybody got any money for this strummer?

I won't need much in the parasol shade

But I could have used a million quid a year ago last Summer

To grace the Bahamas

In see-through pyjamas

But never mind I'm worth two buns, a sherbet

And a liquorice root

Oh rooty-toot-toot

Nobody's got any money in the Summer

Oh dear me, and if I was stoned out of my mind in the park

I'd say

That nobody needs any money in the Summer

Except, of course, for scoring

On a sunny day