Richard Thompson - Fergus Laing lyrics

Fergus Laing is a beast of a man He stitches up and fleeces He wants to manicure the world And see it off in pieces He likes to build his towers high He blocks the sun out from the sky In the penthouse the champagne’s dry And slightly ga**y Fergus Laing, he works so hard As busy as a bee is Fergus Laing has 17 friends All as dull as he is His 17 friends has 17 wives All the perfect shape and size They wag their tails and bat their eyes Just like La**ie Fergus he builds and builds Yet small is his erection Fergus has a fine head of hair When the wind’s in the right direction Fergus Laing and his 17 friends They live inside a bubble There they withdraw and shut the door At any sign of trouble Should the peasants wail and vent And ask him where the money went He’ll simply say, it’s all been spent On being cla**y Fergus’ buildings reach the sky Until you cannot see ‘um He thinks the old stuff he pulls down Belongs in a museum His fits are famous on the scene The shortest fuse, so cruel, so mean But don’t call him a drama queen Like Shirley Ba**ey Fergus Laing he flaunts the law But one day he’ll be wired And as they drag him off to jail We’ll all shout, "You’re fired!"