A slight variation as sung by John Leonard & John Squire

One fine Monday morn as I sat at my desk
In the old public library down in the square
In came an old woman all heavily laden
With all kinds of groceries costly and rare

Now what can I do for to help or assist you
Says I unto her with a nod and a smile
Tis a book that I'm wanting, says she
Cos I hear you've the finest selection in many's a mile

Let me guess then says I as to what you'll be needing
To suit a fine lady and such as yourself
Now what could compare with a romantic novel,
As quickly I reaches one down from the shelf

Now here's a fine tale of a handsome brain surgeon
Whose spirits are low and his mind in a rage
Till his troubles are eased by a fair pretty maiden
And wedding bells chime on the very last page

Oh, it's not what I'm wanting to read, says the lady
And truth for to tell you, the books not for me
But it was my husband who sent me to see
If you have in this place any pornography

If it's pornography that you're wanting, says I
Then you've found the right place as you'll very soon see
For under m'counter I have a fine stock
Of the dirtiest books in the whole country

Lady Chatterly's Lover, Last Exit to Brooklyn
The Old Perfumed Garden, And Carnal Desire
And every volume is bound with asbestos
For fear your hot breath set the pages on fire

We've got Swedish au pair girls all dressed up in rubber
And handsome transvestites both gallant and gay
And every perversion that's known unto man
And it's all on the rates, there's no money to pay.

"Oh dear, we have made a mistake," says the lady,
"For that's not the stuff that I'm wanting indeed
My husband's a pawnbroker, not a sex fiend
And I fear it's not this that he's wanting to read.



Well, he heard about pornography from a friend
And I fear that some comical error he made
For hearing the word and not knowing the meaning
He thought it was something to do with his trade"

Well, the old pawnbroker's wife, she seemed highly amused
When in rage I began for to stamp and to swear
Then I picked up a copy of Portnoy's Complaint,
And I told her to stuff it the devil knows where.

But out of adversity comes opportunity
So the old prophets and sages do say
And the pawnbroker's story, it caused great amusement
When told to me colleagues the very next day

And being well known as a writer of songs
That are written on broadsheets and lavatory walls
I came back to m'desk and I wrote down this song,
And I called it the tale of the man with three balls.