Oh Mister Stationmaster I don't dig you And I'm going out shoppin for a igloo 'Cause standing on your station Is an antarctic exploration And the grim scene every morning to be dragged through Mister station master mr mundane With your morning paper man clock on your watch change I need a team of huskies and a barrel of whisky To make the other end of the platform I think that old iny Get off of my crossfire Otherwise it might just grab at your bag Oh mister station master With your peanut brain in plaster Tell me why'd you draw them pictures on your posters I'm looking for amusement please believe me So strip me to my underpants and leave me And every time he yells "quite soon now" Thrown out the waiting room Around my neck at 90 miles an hour My will and testament are on my forehead My forwarding address is on my highhead Oh mister station master Lung cancer is much faster Never mind I guess the train will be here any day now If I was in your onion We'd both be underneath that ten fifteen Oh mister station master You're a national disaster A country could do without the job