Was to ring up young Car-ol as she sat wide awake
Waiting for her Chris to come on back home
After their row had made him go out all alone.
Carol, Carol, Carol, Carol!
Sat all on her own drinking cheap alcohol.
Meanwhile poor Chris lay out in the snow
Having tripped on a tree root that laid him out low.
A fur-i-ous Stan dragged him back to his house,
Thinking he’d call the po-lice to ar-rest Chris Mouse.
Poor Chris, Poor Chris, Poor Chris, Poor Chris!
How did he ev-er sink as low as this?
Carol cut off the call to Stu in his van,
So he sat there a while con-coct-ing a plan.
He drove round to Eve’s as soundly she slept,
Parked some streets away and around there he crept.
Tip-toe, tip-toe, tip-toe, tip toe!
Rang on her front doorbell hoping no-one would know.
Old Stan, of course, never ma-de his call,
Took pity on Chris as you might well recall.
Listened to the long sto-ry of how he had fell
From the pa-th of goodness to his own living hell.
His tale, His tale, His tale, His tale!
Sad-ly un-fold-ed to Stan saved him bail.
A-no-ther phone call was made in its space
A prowler was noted in some other place.
Someone had heard a stranger rattle their gate,
Not Stu-art of course but it did seal Stu’s fate.
Phone call, phone call, phone call, phone call!
Bells tolled for our Stu as they do for us all.
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