Now this fellow saw me on a one night stand
And he just watched and didn't say a word
I said do you think I'm gonna make the grade
And he said, from what I've heard
You've just about reached the stage now
Of changing from second up into third
But you'll never make the charts

Now the first thing is to stop singing down so low
And try rising to a higher key
And get yourself some nice electri guitars
Well, at least that's worked for me
And you don't have to worry about the fact you'll be
Paying hire purchase till nineteen eighty three
'Cause at least you'll make the charts

Now me, he said, I'm neither bass or baritone
But then I don't really care
My father tells me that I'm a tenor
But then my fathers a square
My mother thinks I'm more like a soprano
But I guess that's just the way I do my hair
But at least I'll make the charts

Then you could try one of these protest marches
From London to Bombay
You could sing your songs and play guitar
And just protest all the way
And it doesn't really matter it you don't know
What the protests all about that day
'Cause at least you'll make the charts

Then suddenly one day it will happen
You'll be number one and then
The Beatles will come along and make another hit
And wham, you're back to number ten
And after that the fans will just forget
And you'll never be seen again

And the moral of this little story is that if one darl wintery night you open your door and there's a poor old pop singer standing there with a long white beard, don't slam the door in his face because - it might be me.

