Sound Files:

all parts

tune

high harmony

low harmony

Lyrics

If you find life a race, you just can’t stand the pace

Come with me to the West Country, the perfect hiding place.

Come pack your bag and make your way to Somerset and I will lay

Ten to one you’ll want to stay down in Nempnett Thrubwell

There's not a pub, there ain’t a shop you’ll never see a traffic cop

Drink on up no one says stop, down in Nempnett Thrubwell

That’s where the cider’s strong, the days are forty-eight hours long

They’ve got frogs as big as dogs that harmonise in song

The pheasants all take part in shoots the big barn owl don’t give two hoots

And all the fleas wear hobnail boots down in Nempnett Thrubwell

Now they don't care for politics the Internet or Teletext

They’ve never heard of Posh and Becks down in Nempnett Thrubwell

They’ve rabbits big as sows, the hens there look the size of cows

And all the pigs do Irish jigs and pigeons pull the ploughs

So leave me there, let me grow fat, and live and laugh, and after that

Bury me in a cider vat, down in Nempnett Thrubwell

Sleepy Nempnett Thrubwell

Good old Somerset          ooh ooh