©1967 by Keith Reed & Gary Brooker

Lime Street in the afternoon
Everybody crazy as a c___
I'm running round in my underpants
Tryin' to find some kinda romance

Quarter past three [sic] on Lime Street
I got whipped right offa my feet
Didn't realize that I'd been caught
Til I found myself in the County Court

"Mr. Judge," I said, "Won't you please be kind
Have pity on me, a poor orphan child?"
"Mr Judge," he says with, a long mean frown
"Orphan or not, you're going down!"

Well I screamed on my knees in the witness box,
"Lord have mercy on my golden locks."
The judge I could see that he was snide
He says, "The only kind of blonde you are's a peroxide!"

Oh Lime Street, Lime Street
Lime Street, that's where we meet

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