Old singer, the subject
Of many parody
He sings songs, so badly
A talentless Geordie
Inside him there's nothing,
This bloke's an empty page.
A pension, he's so close now
This man is bus-pass age

Don't sing, don't sing,
Don't sing so close to me
Don't sing' don't sing,
Don't sing so close to me.

His fans are so senile,
A bunch of mad old gets.
Sometimes they swear they know him
Although they've never met.
Damnation, frustration
So bad it makes me cry
Striped jumper, he's wearing,
He thinks he's cool, but why?

Don't sing, don't sing
Don't sing so close to me
Don't sing, don't sing,
Don't sing so close to me.

His wife's in the bathroom,
Gets ready for the night.
She walks in the bedroom
Her negligee is tight.
It's no use
He sees her
He starts to tantric w**k
Just like the strange man in
His local Barclays Bank.

Don't sing, don't sing
Don't sing so close to me
(to fade)