New York Ivy Paul Heaton + Jacqui Abbott

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
He had a massive gong by the side of his bed
Where most folk just had a lamp
And the tattoos where family names usually read
He had 'Legend' and 'I Am The Champ'

And in this dark age of plasticity
His beard, it felt somehow so real
Something he could touch right next to his skin
Whilst attempting all along to conceal

[Pre-Chorus 1]
Conceal his hidden intent
He ain't after women and he certainly ain't bent
He's a new man, not the old, old, type
He don't drink pints or carry the wife

[Chorus]
And every time he opens his mouth, it's like New York ivy
Clinging to the conversation like the densest of fogs
And the words that he chooses to use are simply New York ivy
Twirling round and snapping your ankles like the neighbour's dogs

And it was 'kinda' instead of 'sort of', 'bunch' instead of 'group', and every second word was 'guys'
They grab a shower, grab a coffee, jump into a cab, and then they do some steak and fries
And the beard grows down his face like New York ivy
And the beard grows down his face like New York ivy