---

Sitting in a sleazy snack-bar sucking sickly sausage rolls

Slipping down slowly, slipping down sideways,

think I'll sign off the dole - 'cause

CHORUS:

The fog on the Tyne is all mine, all mine,

The fog on the Tyne is all mine

The fog on the Tyne is all mine, all mine,

The fog on the Tyne is all mine.

Could a Copper catch a crooked coffin-maker,

Could a Copper comprehend

That a crooked coffin-maker's just an undertaker

Who undertakes to be your friend, and

REPEAT CHORUS

Tell it to tomorrow, today will take its time,

To tell you what tonight will bring.

Presently we'll have a pint or two together

Everybody do their thing.

We can swing together,

We can have a wee-wee,

We can have a wet on the wall

If someone slips a whisper

That it's simple, sister,

Slap them down and slap it on their smalls, 'cause

REPEAT CHORUS