Down the Cyprus Avenue

With child-like visions leaping into view,

A clicking clacking of the high-heeled shoes,

Ford and Fitzroy, Madame Joy,

Marching with the soldier boy behind

He's much older now with hat on, drinking wine

And that smell of sweet perfume comes drifting through

Early cool night air like Shalimar.

Outside they're making all the stops

Kids out in the street collecting bottle tops

Going for cigarettes and matches in the shops,

Happy thinking Madame Joy.

Oh, that's when you fall,

Oh, that's when you fall,

Yeah, that's when you fall.

When you fall into a trance

Sitting on a sofa playing games of chance,

With your folded arms in history books you glance

Into the eyes of Madame Joy.

And you think you found the bag,

You're getting weaker and your knees begin to sag.

In the corner playing dominoes in drag

The one and only Madame Joy.

Outside the frosty window raps

She jumps up and says,