In Penny Lane there is a barber |
Showing photographs |
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know |
And all the people that come and go |
Stop and say hello |
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar |
The little children laugh at him |
Behind his back |
And the banker never wears a mack |
In the pouring rain, very strange |
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes |
There beneath the blue suburban skies |
I sit, and meanwhile back |
In Penny Lane there is a fireman |
With an hourglass |
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen |
He likes to keep his fire engine clean |
It's a clean machine |
Bridge: |
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes |
A four of fish and finger pies |
In summer, meanwhile back |
Behind the shelter in the |
Middle of a roundabout |
The pretty nurse is selling |
Poppies from a tray |
And though she feels as if she's in a play |
She is anyway |
In Penny Lane the barber shaves |
Another customer |
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim |
And then the fireman rushes in |
From the pouring rain, very strange |
Bridge: |
x4 |
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes |
There beneath the blue suburban skies |
I sit, and meanwhile back |
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes |
There beneath the blue suburban skies |
Penny Lane |