Every morning when you came down to the table
Did you believe that you were cursed
'Cos when it came around to sharing out the breakfast
Your brothers always got there first

And did this help you climb aboard that old tramp steamer
Heading down the Ivory Coast
Did you watch those old colonial armies leaving
To bugle strains of the last post

I want to know where do you go
I want to know where do you go

And when you chanced upon that woman from Liberia
As you crossed the burning sand
Did she simply point you to that cool cool water
Or did she lead you by the hand

And let me thank you for your postcard from Monrovia
The sea is warm, the weathers fine
And though I'm not the one to question time or distance
It's dated 1969 [bad word] on now

Somebody told me you were seen the other evening
Passing under the street lamp
Was you collar up for fear of recognition
Or just this northern cold and damp