lirik lagu mike absalom - saga of peaches melba and the hash officer
outside a rundown building not far from notting hill
a passer~by kicked a passing cat, more from habit than from skill
it was a summer’s evening with music in the park
but in her thirteen bob hotel, peaches’ room was dark
she ain’t gonna let them send her down
then detective constable without his friends in blue
was standing on the landing, thinking what to do
“it is the law” maclagan said, “you’ve gotta knock, well that’s the worst
well that’s too bad cos i’ll be glad to bust the door down first”
i’m gonna get this gal and send her down
constable maclagan cast his eyes around the room
says “i can smell marijuana, you know that that spells doom
we’re gonna get you this time, you know you’ve gone too far
and if there’s no marijuana here, i’ve plenty in my car
i’m gonna get you, gal, and send you down”
peaches got up from the bed, tying back her hair
quite a lot of her was hid, quite a lot was bare
she looked him in the face and said “search me if you must”
and she flapped her bra straps at him, saying “this must be a bust”
she ain’t gonna let him send her down
“well is this just a shakedown or a stickup?” she remarked
and then she stripped quite naked like a statue in the park
maclagan coughed and spluttered and tried to interrupt
but he was so very, very, very, very verily corrupt
and he ain’t ever gonna get to send her down
“come on, come on, constable, please make up your mind
what i can’t give you in cash, i can rectify in kind
now firemen like fires, frontiersmen the front
but as you are a cunstable
i guess you want some down payment, don’t you, maclagan?
cos i ain’t ever gonna let you send me down”
maclagan undid his truncheon and flexed his hairy knees
he went through the karma sutra like a butter knife through cheese
he was doing up his trousers when he heard a camera click
and realized with horror that they’d photographed his corruption
he ain’t ever gonna get to send her down
it was wheeler, used~car dealer and little willie brown
they sell rude pictures down in kent and run a garage up in town
oh they’d been waiting for maclagan for days and days and days
now he’s sinned in cinerama fifty~seven ways
he ain’t ever gonna get to send her down
well now all you story tellers, no matter what you say
about abdul the poor fakir or the burghers of calais
well you’ll never beat the pure suspense of the crime detection book
and if you ever find maclagan’s prints, let me have a look
cos i ain’t ever seen him take them down
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