Track 2 of _Fugazi_ —
Punch, Punch and Judy, Punch and Judy, Punch and Judy.
Washing machine, pinstripe dream stripped the gloss from a beauty queen.
Punch and Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy.
Found our nest in the Daily Express, met the Vicar in a holy vest.
Punch and Judy, Punch and Judy.
Brought up the children, Church of E, now I vegetate with a color TV.
Worst ever thing that happened to me, oh for D-I-V-O-R-C-E. Oh Judy!
Whatever happened to pillow fights?
Whatever happened to jeans so tight? Friday nights?
Whatever happened to Lover’s lane?
Whatever happened to passion games? Sunday walks in the pouring rain?
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch.
Curling tongs, mogadons,
I got a headache baby, don’t take so long.
Single beds, middle age dread, losing the war in the waistlands spread.
Who left the cap off the toothpaste tube, who forgot to flush the loo?
Leave your sweaty socks outside the door,
Don’t walk across my polished floor, Oh Judy!
Whatever happened to morning smiles?
Whatever happened to wicked wiles? permissive styles?
Whatever happened to twinkling eyes?
Whatever happened to hard fast drives? compliments on unnatural size?
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch and Judy,
Punch, Punch, Punch.
Propping up a bar, family car, sweating out a mortgage as a balding clerk.
Punch and Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy, Judy
World War Three, suburbanshee, just slip her these pills and I’ll be free.
No more Judy, Judy, Judy no more.
Goodbye Judy!