Love is better than a warm trombone,
When goin' south my two-toned brother
Down on luck by chance,
Carress her head I've had to build a little trance
With his hands in his pockets he could not find
With his hands in his pockets he began to cry
With his hands in his pockets he lowered his eyes
He said "Miss I ought to, apologise,
I've been falling down"
A river, of your lovelorn souls
Getting deeper than the deepest damn washing bowl, my brother
Get the dirt off your hands
Getting darker than a sun-chased suntan
With his hands in his pockets he could not find
With his hands in his pockets he began to cry
With his hands in his pockets he lowered his eyes
He said "Miss I ought to, apologise,
I've been falling down"
With his hands in his pockets he began to cry
With his hands in his pockets he could not lie
With his hands in his pockets he lowered his eyes
He said "Miss I ought to, apologise,
I've been falling down"