Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Loudon Wainwright III
Living on the side of Primrose Hill
Drinking cans of Tennants, just can't seem to get my fill
I got a beat up guitar and a dirty old sleeping bag
And this mangy dog whose tail don't wag
Sun's been shining down on my hillside bed
That's not the only reason my face is so red
This nasty cut on my nose it's not from no fight
I just fell down yesterday or maybe it was last night
And I used to sing and play down in the underground
But a few years back they started cracking down
Now I'm living on the side of Primrose Hill
I'm no tourist attraction but I give 'em a thrill
Yeah I see you riding by on your flash bicycle
Hey they can do you for that on Primrose Hill
A pretty young mother goes by, she's pushing her pram
Her little baby leans out just to see what I am
From the top of the hill there's a hell of a view
Houses of Parliament and London Zoo
Those politicians they all chatter, trumpet and roar
That must be what those hyenas all are laughing for
When you come up to London it sure is something to see
It's somewhere to go but it's no place to be
And there's two things keeping me from going 'round the bend
I got my music and this dog for a friend
'Cause life gets slippery when you're living on the side
Yeah I know I should quit drinking but I haven't even tried
My mutt's licking my fingers and I'm wetting my lips
I got a can of extra strong and a bag of chicken and chips
If I had a little money I'd get a few things
Like a bottle of vodka and a pack of new guitar strings
I guess I could die here on the side of this hill
I'm no tourist attraction but I'd give 'em a chill
And I'm living on the side of Primrose Hill
Drinking cans of Tennants, I just can't seem to get my fill
I got a beat up guitar and dirty old sleeping bag
And this mangy dog whose tail don't wag
Primrose Hill (Live) was written by Loudon Wainwright III.