Peter Brophy Don't Care (Lindisfarne)

Your nose is in your pipe, but you don't care Your tattered tweeds and walking cane All feel real The monocled face with the knowing eyes See it all go by But you don't care You dance your pants and sing with the Jew Who knows your face from a different place You don't care You just don't care Bow down, in out, feeling fine Drinking bottles of American wine You don't care You just don't care Lift the cracked old cup up to your mouth And toast the feet that walk the street From north to south Walking kitten on a leash A smile, a bow, a quick how-now brown cow You don't care if the vicar's hair is falling out He's still got a beer pout You don't care You just don't care Brown hot-cross buns in the bakery window having fun With the sausage roll that's underdone You don't care