Fergus Laing is a beast of a man
He stitches up and fleeces
He wants to manicure the world
And sell it off in pieces
He likes to build his towers high
He blocks the sun out of the sky
In the penthouse the champagne's dry
And slightly gassy
verse 2
Fergus Laing, he works so hard
As busy as a bee is
Fergus Laing has seventeen friends
All as dull as he is
His seventeen friends have seventeen wives
All the perfect shape and size
They wag their tails and bat their eyes
Just like Lassie
Fergus Laing he builds and builds
Yet small is his erection
Fergus Laing has a fine head of hair
When the wind's in the right direction
the wind's in the right direction
verse 3
Fergus Laing and his seventeen friends
They live inside a bubble
There they withdraw and shut the door
At any sign of trouble
Should the peasants wail and vent
And ask him where the money went
He'll simply say, it's all been spent
On being classy
verse 4
Fergus' buildings reach the sky
Until you cannot see 'em
He thinks the old stuff he pulls down
Belongs in a museum
His own fair home is on the Park
an airy jewel, a city ark
Hung with Picasso, hung with Braque
but nothing brassy
Fergus Laing he builds and builds
Yet small is his erection
Fergus Laing has a fine head of hair
When the wind's in the right direction
the wind's in the right direction
Alternate verse 4
His fits are famous on the scene
The shortest fuse, so cruel, so mean
But don't call him a drama queen
Like Shirley Bassey
Fergus Laing he flaunts the law
But one day he'll be wired
And as they drag him off to jail
We'll all shout, "You're fired!"