Handsome Sam, the ladies’ man
Lives alone in a caravan
Standing over the frying pan, he says
‘Sam, you’ve done the best you can
But damn the day and that fat old sun
Rushing away when the day is done
My skin isn’t thin and my bones aren’t sore
But every day goes quicker than the day before’
And then dang-a-lang-a-lang go the big brass bells
Six o’clock and all is well
Where the time goes, who can tell?
But my good looks are going straight to hell
In the limelight, burning bright
Archie stands most every night
And of a salty Saturday
He pours it on for the matinee
He treads the boards to the dressing room door
Chucks poor Yorick over his shoulder
The wig on the hatstand, the frock on the floor
And he says ‘Dear God, I’ve got so much more to give’
But then dang-a-lang-a-lang go the big brass bells
Six o’clock and all is well
Where the time goes, who can tell?
But my good looks are going straight to hell
Ten long years since he took a taste
And Chester’s face is laid to waste
He can sing and he used to play
Till he lost his chops in an alleyway
You can find him at the Grand Hotel
Doubled over on his wishing well
He gets up again and he wipes his chin
He stands there looking where his bright eyes once had been
And then dang-a-lang-a-lang go the big brass bells
Six o’clock and all is well
Where the time goes, who can tell?
But my good looks are going straight to hell
My good looks are going straight to hell, oh
My good looks are going straight to hell