I've been wearing faces in the strangest places
Just to make a dream come true
The dawn is sweet but it's incomplete
And I'm waiting for you
The breeze is blowing and my hair is growing
Forgotten everything my mother knew
The day is young and the spring is sprung
And I'm waiting for you
Must you bring your horse in here, Miss Jones?
Although your snowshoes do look terrific
Yes, they all come from out of the sky, you know
And I'm waiting for you
I'm waiting for the dove
That never came home
I'm waiting for the painter
When his colors were gone
I'm waiting for soldiers at the war
I'm waiting for a royal decision
I'm waiting for the sun to snore
I'm waiting for a rumble from Jericho
Waiting for the world to begin
I'm a bareback rider
I'm an outsider
And I love to dance the boogaloo
I'm a turnip head
I'm a lately wed
And I'm waiting for you
More tea, Vicar?
More tea, Vicar?
Hold that tiger
Yes, the hydrangeas do look good
Divine this time of year
I'm waiting for the angels
To put on their smiles
I'm waiting for the judges
To come to trial
I'm waiting for the aeroplane
I'm waiting for the graves to open
I'm waiting to be sold in chains
I'm waiting for a signal
From the trapdoor queen
Waiting for the world to begin
I'm a snake charmer
I'm a guava farmer
I'm a goose to me
Don't ever say poo
Let the universe roll
I'm a simple soul
And I'm waiting for you
Oh, it sounds so sweet
When you play to me like that
That tiger doesn't really want to be held
I'm waiting for the signs
To point a different way
I'm waiting for God
To take a holiday
I'm waiting for night
In the mine
I'm waiting for the hills
To grow steeper
I'm waiting for the man
They call shine
I'm waiting for Willie
The weeper to wake
Waiting for the world
To begin
I'm off to market
With an old straw basket
singing do-dee-oh-dee-oh






Green cloth to wear in the spring
In the April breeze, that's how it will blow
I'm going to introduce to you now
The personalities who composed the Jim Stigert occult quart
Over there on my left
We have Miss Cynthia de Montfort-Jones
Upon her silvery-toned mandoline
And just a little further over on the left
We have that famed oriental bass player
Miss Fanola Bumgarner
First time in captivity, folks
On the pounding battery and coterie
We have Miss Cynthia de Montfort-Jones

And we have that well-known bricklayer's laborer
From Pilton, Mr. Jack McMarker
And perhaps we just have time
To devastate your synesthesia
With one more searing chorus
From Black Jack Davey on the steam organ
Black Jack Davey
Black Jack Davey
Black Jack Davey
ύ us
You