Lyrics

Finding himself in Balamory

A picture book-esc-quire front story

That reads, a little boy from England is lost

He should have stayed south of Swindon

At all costs

There's much more than currency lost

With days weeks months years all forgot


Fallen for fables oh how foul
I want my money back

Give it back
Give it back
Give it back
Give it back


She thinks to herself

God I hate this city

All the dancing jobs pay singles not fifties

So she glides around a waiters station

An elegance laced with frustration

That she had trained for so much more

Than cleaning tables and mopping floors


Fallen for fables oh how foul
I want my money back

Give it back
Give it back
Give it back
Give it back


Most days I don’t see what the use is
I'm finally out of excuses


So you say lets leave town move out to the country

To live our lives like Sawyer, Joshua, and Dumpy

Where all the kings horses and all the kings men

Could never drag us back to the city again

But if we stuck this out

Built our home in Hamlin

And cleared all the worst of the pest based contaminants

Made our way to the mayor to get our fifty squared

You say we’d be underpaid for our labour again


But look I can't leave town

Move out to the country

To live my life like Sawyer, Joshua, and Dumpy

Where all the kings horses and all the kings men

Could never drag me back to the city again

Look I’ll die where I stand I’ll build heaven in Hamlin

And clear all the worst of the pest based contaminants

Make my way to the mayor to get my fifty squared

And still be underpaid for my labour again


Fallen for fables oh how foul
I want my money back

Give it back
Give it back
Give it back
Give it back

Give it back
Give it back
Give it back
Give it back