Well I'm the Gentleman Rhymer named Mr.B I like to smoke my pipe with a cup of tea Lapsang Suchong and devilled kidneys Why would anybody want to stop me? I'm a man of taste, a man of finesse But I must get something off my chest I'll abide by the laws of your watering holes But I won't stand in the rain with a pack of ruddy proles Puffing on their Marlboros or Mayfair Lights Or worse, those herbal trade fair types If I was in the club with a broadsheet Waiting for a pinky rub on my bored feet I would watch them from the window in their sportswear shoes Now I've got to go out and be bored there too So prime minister sir, this just won't do Listen to my plea to you, please.
Let me smoke my pipe
The pipe, the pipe, let's pack the pipe
My pipe smells nice check one My pipe smells nice check two My Pipe smells nice check three The smoke's all gone, but now the pubs smell of wee My pipe smells nice check one My pipe smells nice check two My Pipe smells nice check three Won't you come and smoke a pipe with me