It's Saturday morning the excitement grows,
From the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes,
Jump out of bed and run down the stair,
Avoiding my mother with the brush for my hair,
Bolt down the cornflakes place the bowl in the sink,
She asks me a question but I've no time to think,

I ask her to hurry she hands me a tin,
That's the admission, the price to get in,
Be it beans or soup or a quarter of tea,
That was the price, that was the fee,
A knock at the door, I know who'll that be,
Oh those were the days my posse and me.

We strolled down the main street with sixshooters in hand,
In our heads, the meanest gang in the land,
We handed over our bounty to a nice man called Joe,
In ye go lads we've got a great show,

The house lights were up, ah but then they went dim,
The stamping of feet, it made such a din,
On came the lone ranger with tonto his mate,
I thought he was magic, I thought he was great,
The cartoons that followed I loved most of all,
Till that's all folks, indeed that was all,

Its now forty years on, my the years they have flown,
Instead of a sixgun I now wield a phone,
Now as the lights dim and I sit in my seat,
I have to stop myself from stamping my feet.