Mr Fred's Disco

Put on your platform soles

And paint your nails white

We got to look our best at Mr. Fred's tonight

We learned our dance moves

God, I hope we get them right

Don't smile, your crown shows up

In ultra-violet light

Just down the alleyway

Behind the goods yard wall

Inside what used to be

The local mission hall

Patrolled by heavies

In their Aquascutum suits

No jeans, no overalls

No steel toecapped boots

They got a London DJ booked

And someone said he looks

Like Les Mckeown, can you see?

When he gets up on the stage

I know he's gonna play some

Wicked tunes just for me

And later on when he's done his tracks

He'll pull some grockle cow

And take her back to his B&B

See the guys in their diamond tops

And their oxford bags

Take care in the lightshow

'Cause the strobes can drive you mad

If you're epileptic you'll be sure to have a fit

So don't forget to ask them where

They keep the first aid kit

Thank goodness we're both healthy

We're here to have ourselves a real good time

Come on let's dance

Hoik up your satin bell sleeves

We're gonna leave our troubles

Far behind in the past

You noticed those two old guys?

Well, they've been eyeing us

Since we arrived, not a chance

It's nearly fifty years

Since we were standing here

The image starts to wave

And the music goes all weird

The room is empty

And the mould is sickly blue

This place is coming down

In another week or two

Over there where the speakers stood

There's just a pile of wood

And broken glass, mind your toes

It's hard to get your bearings

But that banquette is where

I parked my arse long ago

And flat out on the dance floor

Old Mr. Fred won't boogie any more

Oh, no, no it's gone

Oh, Mr. Fred's, it's gone

Mr. Fred's, ya know, it's gone

Oh, Mr. Fred's, it's gone

Oh, now