Record

The Whistle and the Page

Up-tempo jazz swinging, playful, cheeky English

Duration: 2:43
Last aired: Today, 06:32
Played: 109 times

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Lyrics

Verse

Mrs. Delaney irons moth‑thin tweed, Tuesday steam and a careful hand,
Mr. Pritchard times his kettle tick, tea whistle to the second hand,
A laundry line stitches the narrow sky above a shared iron drain,
Two low bunker doors, two stubborn folks, keeping score in dust and rain.

Chorus

Then a salesman knocked with a battered case — picture books of the old towns,
Now every pane becomes a porch, and the whistles run up and down,
They outdo one another with trompe‑l'oeil shutters, painted brass,
But behind the noise and the bright parade, it's the last cup of tea they pass.

Verse

Mrs. Delaney paints a marble foyer, a lamplight by the stair,
Mr. Pritchard learns a staccato trill that rattles up the air,
A biscuit tin applause from the drain, a crow applauds on cue,
They wag their brows and tune their pipes — old habits dressed up new.

Chorus

Bridge

One week in, both doors fling wide, the same spread on both their knees,
They crack up at one photograph — the fountain, the Ferris, the frieze,
They argue, blinking, over spoons; who pours, who savours first? — delight!
Two old hands, one battered book, and the courtyard sways with light.

Chorus

The salesman left with his battered case, but the contest hums some more,
Painted windows, rising whistles — neighborly uproar,
They clink a dented tin, a truce in steam and brass,
And the narrow courtyard keeps their small lit war, while someone keeps the last cup of tea.