When the last of the gas has been guzzled
And the panda and jaguar sleep
Here's an old dog they'll never have muzzled
I'll be out redirecting the sheep
When they've scrunched every car, and they're tossing
The metal to someone who'll sculpt
I'll give hell at a pelican crossing
Bossing bikes that leave little 'uns pulped
When the fast lanes have lost all their functions
And there's grass on the M42
I'll be hand-jiving on at the junctions
Making sure the sedan chairs get through
And when Tony beams down, still seraphic,
From a land where the angels ride asses
I will still be directing the traffic -
The Lollipop Man Of The Masses
