When society ladies ask me to teaOh, what a letdown I must beThey think I'm a star, how wrong they areCos I'm no one, no one but meWhen society ladies ask me to dineThey're thrilled by eight and bored by nineThey know something's wrong, I'm not like the songCos I'm no one, no one but meThey ask me to play the pianoWhich, for my information,'s an heirloomThe polish is stunning, the gold plate, it is runningAnd invariably I'm a star, how wrong they areWhen society ladies show me to their friendsThey kiss my cheek, but that's where it endsFor although I'm a name, it's not quite the sameCos I'm no one, no one but meI once fell in love with a girl from RodinShe was terribly cool, I was frightfully keenI tried all me numbers to get up her jumpersBut nothing, nothingI tried all me numbers to get up her jumpersBut nothing, nothing for meI was once asked to play at a debutante's ballShe said I was sweet, which means nothing at allI asked her to dance, but I knew at a glanceI was no one, no one but meThey try very hard to be down to earthAnd talk about things I should never doNo, but after a timeThey succumb to their wineAnd their breeding begins to showWhen society ladies ask me to lunchI'm very honoured, but here comes the crunchThey've heard I was seen with their daughter last nightAnd they'd like to pop me gently rightAnd they'd like to pop me gently rightAlthough I am kind and unusually brightI'll never be Mark PhillipsTry as I mightCause I'm no one, no one but me