Mr. Lister was, walking down the street
Cashmere on his back, and loafers on his feet
Ooh Mr. Lister, take a look at me
There's some things you don't understand
Like the ground beneath your feet

Mr. Lister keeps a book of all the names
Of all the people in the world
With something he can take
Please Mr. Lister, I know you're running late
My stomachs turning inside out
Not a bite to eat all day

Didn't see you there
Thought I didn't care
Take a look around
You'll hear the muted sound

Mr. Lister is a man without a friend
He lives on top of Baxter Hill
And has never had a guest
Please Mr. Lister, you left me in the street
Eighteen bedrooms in your house
And not a place for me to sleep