Lay-By On The Edge Of Town

Lay-By On The Edge Of Town

There’s a place that you can go to late at night,
The atmosphere is tense ‘cos there aint much light,
Not like when the Gypsies hold the bare knuckle fights,
In the lay-by on the edge of town.

Parked in the corner there’s a four wheel drive,
And the people within it are performing live,
You won’t believe the ‘car’ma sutra they contrive,
In the lay-by on the edge of town.

Well there’s a lot of local interest you can bet,
Fuelled by word of mouth and the world wide net,
Although they don’t come in from much further than Wiltshire yet,
To that lay-by on the edge of town.

Some couples feel the need to be crazy and free,
And to get down on some automotive upholstery,
Then all they really need is a spectator or three,
In the lay-by on the edge of town.

Well some one sent a letter to the Town Gazette,
Saying ‘Do we need this kind of thing in Somerset?’,
One of the Shepton coppers who was watching said ‘You bet!’
In the lay-by on the edge of town.

It’s a swinging stretch of tarmac with some parking bays,
Out by the by-pass, dual carriageway,
When it’s over there’s a greasy spoon transport café,
Near the lay-by on the edge of town.

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