| There’s a tramp sittin' on my doorstep | 
| Tryin' to waste his time | 
| With his methylated sandwich | 
| He’s a walking clothesline | 
| And here comes the bishop’s daughter | 
| On the other side | 
| She looks a trifle jealous | 
| She’s been an outcast all her life | 
| Me, I’m waiting so patiently | 
| Lying on the floor | 
| I’m just trying to do my jig-saw puzzle | 
| Before it rains anymore | 
| Oh the gangster looks so fright’ning | 
| With his luger in his hand | 
| When he gets home to his children | 
| He’s a family man | 
| But when it comes to the nitty-gritty | 
| He can shove in his knife | 
| Yes he really looks quite religious | 
| He’s been an outlaw all his life | 
| Me, I’m waiting so patiently | 
| Lying on the floor | 
| I’m just trying to do this jig-saw puzzle | 
| Before it rains anymore | 
| Me, I’m waiting so patiently | 
| Lying on the floor | 
| I’m just trying to do this jig-saw puzzle | 
| Before it rains anymore | 
| Oh the singer, he looks angry | 
| At being thrown to the lions | 
| And the bass player, he looks nervous | 
| About the girls outside | 
| And the drummer, he’s so shattered | 
| Trying to keep up time | 
| And the guitar players look damaged | 
| They’ve been outcasts all thier lives | 
| Me, I’m waiting so patiently | 
| Lying on the floor | 
| I’m just trying to do this jig-saw puzzle | 
| Before it rains anymore | 
| Oh, there’s twenty-thousand grandmas | 
| Wave their hankies in the air | 
| All burning up their pensions | 
| And shouting, «It's not fair!» | 
| There’s a regiment of soldiers | 
| Standing looking on | 
| And the queen is bravely shouting, | 
| «What the hell is going on?» | 
| With a blood-curdling «tally-ho» | 
| She charged into the ranks | 
| And blessed all those grandmas who | 
| With their dying breaths screamed, «Thanks!» | 
| Me, I’m just waiting so patiently | 
| With my woman on the floor | 
| We’re just trying to do this jig-saw puzzle | 
| Before it rains anymore |