text: Im going on the circuit
  Im doing all the clubs
  And I really need a song, boys
  To stir those workers up
  And get their wives to sing it with me
  Just like in the pubs
  When I worked the good old pubs in Stepney
  Oh, could you knock a line or two
  Together for a friend?
  Sentimental, tear-inducing
  With a happy end
  And we need a tune to open
  Our season at Southend
  Can you help us?
  Its hard to write a song with bitter fingers
  So much to prove, so few to tell you why
  Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
  At the keyboard players hollow haunted eyes
  It seems to me a change is really needed
  Im sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das 
  No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
  Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
  I like the warm blue flame
  The hazy heat it brings
  It loosens up the muscles
  And forces you to sing
  You know its just another hit and run
  From the tin pan alley twins
  And theres a chance that one day
  You might write a standard, lads
  So churn them out quick and fast
  And well still pat your backs
  Cause we need what we can get
  To launch another dozen acts
  Are you working?
  Its hard to write a song with bitter fingers
  So much to prove, so few to tell you why
  Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
  At the keyboard players hollow haunted eyes
  It seems to me a change is really needed
  Im sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das 
  No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
  Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
  Its hard to write a song with bitter fingers
  So much to prove, so few to tell you why
  Those old die-hards in Denmark Street start laughing
  At the keyboard players hollow haunted eyes
  It seems to me a change is really needed
  Im sick of tra-la-las and la-de-das 
  No more long days hacking hunks of garbage
  Bitter fingers never swung on swinging stars, swinging stars
  Swinging stars, swinging stars
  Its hard to write a song with bitter fingers
  So much to prove, so few to tell you why
  Those old die-hards in Denmark-