Lyrics:

I Work In Dark Factories,
a Cog In A Big Wheel,
driving Grey Satanic Mills
and Weaving Sad Stories.

and Faceless Masters,
oh, They Pay Me Plenty
crumbs From Their Luncheon Bags
harsh Wine From Bottles Of Empties.

[chorus]
'a Stitch In Time Saves Nine,'
Sang Cock-Robin From The Wall.
'it's An Early Bird Catches The Worm;
Show A Little Pride Before You Fall.'

so I Flew To The South Sun
with Birds Of A Feather,
to Drink In The Warm Nights
and Tell Of Fine Weather.

[repeat Chorus]

listen All You Young Folk
your Lives On The Time-Table.
clocking On Twenty-One;
fly While You're Able.

[repeat Chorus]

[repeat Chorus