Music sounds in the clubs now –
Too loud for you and me,
It’s music for the kids,
Love,
At twelve o’clocking time.

The cat sings love to his woman,
The vampire stretches his wings,
And the mouses roam round the House,
Love,
At twelve o’clocking time.

Piccadilly is scenting the spice now,
Young feathers wait to be plucked,
And old men are spouting their grouse,
Love,
At twelve o’clocking time.

Young girl stands on a corner –
Fair game for passers by,
She’s a decent kind of a girl,
Love,
At twelve o’clocking time.

The gaping Thames yawns wide now,
The barges, boats are still,
And the fears of London are ours,
Love,
At twelve o’clocking time.