Portobello Road (Stereo Version)

Getting hung up all day on smiles

Walking down Portobello Road for miles

Greeting strangers in Indian boots

Yellow ties and old brown suits

Growing old is my only danger

Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks

Lampshades of old antique leather

Nothing looks weird, not even a beard

Or the boots made out of feathers

I'll keep walking miles

'Til I feel broom beneath my feet

Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street

Nothing's the same if you see it again

It'll be broken down to litter

Oh, and the clothes, everyone knows

That that dress will never fit her

Getting hung up all day on smiles

Walking down Portobello Road for miles

Greeting strangers in Indian boots

Yellow ties and old brown suits

Growing old is my only danger

Cuckoo clocks, and plastic socks

Lampshades of old antique leather

Nothing looks weird, not even a beard

Or the boots made out of feathers

I'll keep walking miles

'Til I feel broom beneath my feet

Or the hawking eyes of an old stuffed bull across the street

Nothing's the same if you see it again

It'll be broken down to litter

Oh, and the clothes, everyone knows

That that dress will never fit her

Getting hung up all day on smiles

Walking down Portobello Road for miles

Greeting strangers in Indian boots

Yellow ties and old brown suits

Growing old is my only danger