QUEUES
 
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Don't tell it out in public, but I've got a song to make
About the lack of foodstuffs and the substitutes we take
The pains we have to suffer and the prices that we pay
While the profiteers are putting all the cash they can away
We read the news, we stand in queues, we go from shop to shop
We pay the price, they say it's nice, it's past-time for the cop.

Chorus: Oh, the tea queues, the wee queues, there's queues for this and that
Whiskey queues, frisky queues, they've got us on the mat
I never see the missus now, she's in the queues all day
And the 'Picture' queues of ev'ning explain why I'm away.

We're all at sea with sugar so they ship up stuff like sand
The cheese we get is humming - more like a German Band
The vinegar is sour and the bread looks black and glum
While the drink they sell as whiskey, well, we says as how it's rum
We daren't speak the coffee's weak, there's grounds here for complaint
You ask for grub you get a snub, 'twould aggravate a saint.

Chorus: Oh, the tea queues, the wee queues, there's queues for this and that
Whiskey queues, frisky queues, they've got us on the mat
I never see the missus now, she's in the queues all day
And the 'Theatre' queues of ev'ning explain why I'm away.


If you get an egg for breakfast break it gently mother dear
If you see a hop in water - shush - I think they call it beer
You haven't got a plaice for fish, it's all a game of cod
You ask for peas they give you beans, that's never seen a pod
You ask for jam, he says oh! jam - you get a nasty jar
The treacle too - stuck up the noo, it's too stuck up by far.

Chorus: Oh, the tea queues, the wee queues, there's queues for this and that
Whiskey queues, frisky queues, they've got us on the mat
I never see the missus now, she's in the queues all day
And the 'Billiard' queues of ev'ning explain why I'm away.


Potatoes are so very sad and leeks are on the run
You get the pip from oranges and pastry takes the bun
The stout is getting thinner and the total tea stocks lower
While every match is out on strike and woodbine fags no more
You want a meal - the menus squeal not more than one and three
Don't fret or frown - just get it down, we're all fed up d'ye see.

Chorus: Oh, the tea queues, the wee queues, there's queues for this and that
Whiskey queues, frisky queues, they've got us on the mat
I never see the missus now, she's in the queues all day
And the 'Beer' queues of ev'ning explain why I'm away.
 
 
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