My old clumpy boots

I’m walking up the road

In my old clumpy boots

Clump! Clump! Clump, clump, clump!


I’m not a ballerina or a racehorse

the Riverdance, I don’t do

or attempt to walk you through

the shuffle softly safety shoe.


I’m just walking up the road in my old clumpy boots,

Clump! Clump! Clump! Clump! Clump!


A Cockney man would tell you

that he calls them Daisy-roots,

as he Clump! Clump! Clumps! up the road,

he might then tell you

that they’re better

than a pair of hidden clues!,

as he Clump! Clump! Clumps up the road.


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