Nobody's got any money in the Summer
Oh dear me, what a terrible drag
I couldn't get very much numb-er than in Summer
Beseeching the rent-man
To be soft as he can
'Cause I've got a little money coming when I sell my MBE

All the folkie student population wearing rucksacks
Taking my meal ticket over the seas
And half the blasted idiots are stuck in Yugoslavia
With hardly a Dinar
And looking no cleaner
Than a Chinese wrestler's jock-strap
Cooked in chip fat
On a greasy day
And think what money could do for my tummy
And think what my tummy could do for my mind
And think what my mind could do for the world
For the stars and infinity

Has anybody got any money for this strummer?
I won't need much in the parasol shade
But I could have used a million quid a year ago last Summer
To grace the Bahamas
In see-through pyjamas
But never mind I'm worth two buns, a sherbet
And a liquorice root
Oh rooty-toot-toot
Nobody's got any money in the Summer
Oh dear me, and if I was stoned out of my mind in the park
I'd say
That nobody needs any money in the Summer
Except, of course, for scoring
On a sunny day