Changing trains at Didcot Parkway
It feels like another century
London's just an hour away -
It could be another country.
City boys and city girls, well
This far out, you can't be heard
You're in the country and not of it -
It's a Tudorbethan world.

She's the queen of the village scene
She's declaring civil war
On behalf of the Middle Class
And everything that has gone before.
She's the queen of the village scene
Don't you mock her Tudor beams,
A little slice of paradise
Artifically highly priced.

It's a leafy piece of plenty, if the sun it ever shines -
It never does, it never does, it never does

TV licence paid in full, mortgage very nearly there,
Sundays wash car in the driveway, never take it anywhere.
Carpet in the downstairs toilet matches carpet on the lid
Doilies lounging on the cistern, Kim Jung-Il with a bit more wit

The curtains never get to twitching
Cos she don't really care
What the others get up to -
Too busy crimping stone white hair.

She's the queen of the village scene,
Curator of a pleasant dream
Horatio on the Tiber bridge
None shall pass unless they're rich
She's the queen of the village scene
Not here or now, caught between
Didcot's regal didicoy
On the browning village green

And she takes her tea like she likes her men
Very white, very weak, lukewarm.

God save country life, the stockbrokers and their stocky wives
And whichever deity gets you through the working day
God save friendly country smithy, the whetstone and the scythe
God save you and God save me

God save one-woman village idiot preservation society
God save the National turst, the National and the National Health
God save whichever football team you support from bankrupcy
God save you and God save me