Every day is different
In my neighborhood
My little street called Heaven
Where everyone is good
Or so they would have us believe
But grown up I know different now
Take old Mrs McCartney
God what a wicked cow
She used to drown baby kittens
Her old Tom was responsible for
A big fat Ginger Tom
Who used to come howling at my door
So my Mum bought an Alsatian dog
To sort the bloody thing out
And one day he chased it out into the road
When no one was about
Except old Mr McGinnis, deaf and almost blind it seemed
Who was still driving his Bentley Car
The like of which most men dreamed
He did not see dear pussy cat
A running in the road
Did not brake, Oh dear me
Pussy was squashed just like a toad
Then there was young Mr Andrews
Good looking and quite flash
He used to strut around the place
And always seemed to have cash
But never seemed to work
Except he was always out at night
And I found out the reason why
In the next street that only had one light
He used to enter houses
When everyone was asleep
And being a light sleep awoke
A noise made me take a peep
Because running frantically down the road
Was Mr Andrews in a sweat and panting
Being chased by a bid Rottweiler Dog
Two Policemen and a passer- by which was all he would be wanting
The Dog took a leap at the sight in front
His teeth did make their mark with all their might
A great big hole appeared in Mr Andrews trousers
And his bare behind came into sight
Leapt on by the Policemen handcuffed and taken away
Apparently he used to burglarize at night
And do sod all in the day
This street of ours saw many sights
That I missed when I was a boy
Like Mrs Appleton and her little misdemeanour
That she did enjoy
Colin the milkman, Mr Jones the Postman too name but two
Was giving her more than milk we believe
She would draw the front room curtains when they went in
What went on we could only conceive
Until one morning, one day in May
About the twenty-third I think
When Mr Appleton returned home early a bit worse for ware
And caught them at it over the sink
Out came the dogs lead with one mighty slash
A yell and a scream followed shortly
Out through the back door Colin did run
Followed by Mr Appleton and although a bit portly
Was chasing poor milkman with harm on his mind
The dog-lead a swirling around in the air
Followed by another scream, and another almighty yell
Where Colin had been hit on the backside by Mr Appleton pretty fair
Such was life in a street called Heaven
Memories of my childhood days
That will stay with me for the rest of my life
The type of stories that are only found in television play’s
Even at ten I had a lasting romance
Young Jenny who was the same age as me, and lived two doors away
We used to walk out and hold each other’s hand
And sometimes I was invited round for tea on Sunday
But we lasted a lifetime, still together you see
And many a night by the raging firelight
We sit and reminisce what it was like growing up in our street
And what it must be like in Heaven tonight