Wrote this song in 1981 and recorded it in December 2017 - January 2018.
Here are the lyrics in their entirety.
"Mrs Taylor was cool and blonde,
Magical and slim as a fairy wand.
I've loved Mrs Taylor since I was eleven
And she gave me the keys to the gates of Heaven.
I was young, oh, so young,
Dumbstruck, gauche and highly strung;
Pretending to play a reluctant part
But one sweet kiss and she had my heart.
My heart...
Mrs Taylor went to the Grammar,
Where she had a reputation for her Nordic glamour,
High IQ and manner genteel
But most of all for her man appeal.
And there came one time when our eyes did meet
And, perhaps, I might have swept her off her feet
But bashful, stammering, face all red,
I couldn't hear her words for the fire in my head.
She looked straight though me, eyes like ice,
Holding my soul in a frozen vice.
Pity, scorn, schoolgirl chic,
Kisses me lightly on the cheek.
Then turns she away for warmer climes,
Where the boys have better things on their minds.
Mrs Taylor went to the Grammar,
Where she had a reputation for her Nordic glamour,
High IQ and manner genteel
But most of all for her man appeal.
And there came one time when our eyes did meet
And, perhaps, I might have swept her off her feet
But bashful, stammering, face all red,
I couldn't hear her words for the fire in my head.
She looked straight though me, eyes like ice,
Holding my soul in a frozen vice.
Pity, scorn, schoolgirl chic,
Kisses me lightly on the cheek.
Then turns she away for warmer climes,
Where the boys have better things on their minds.
Their minds...
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor
Mrs Taylor.
Mrs Taylor.
Mrs Taylor played the field,
Taking what she wanted from the very well heeled.
Feted, sought out, showered with praise,
These were high and heady days.
Mrs Taylor had it all in the palm of her hand
And the brightest and the best
Could never, therefore, understand
Why she gave it all away for a simple man.
She wriggles and giggles at his barroom jests and
Prettily flushes at his lewd suggestions.
What has he got that I have not?
I think to myself as I squeeze a spot.
Why can't she see through to what I am
To the warrior beneath the awkward sham?
Many years later, children grown,
Marital discord in the home.
Ah, the champion man she knew
Was but the dream of an ingenue
That the waking woman came to rue.
And I am gone now to great success,
Always in the gossip columns of the gutter press,
Where Nordic blondes who are half my age
Hang around my neck on society page.
And Mrs Taylor has begun now to lose her figure,
Shoulders rounded, bottom bigger.
Worry and care contort her face
And scar her schoolgirl cool and grace
But though her eyes are tired and her smile full of weather
I loved her then and I will forever.
Mrs Taylor played the field,
Taking what she wanted from the very well heeled.
Feted, sought out, showered with praise,
These were high and heady days.
Mrs Taylor had it all in the palm of her hand
And the brightest and the best
Could never, therefore, understand
Why she gave it all away for a simple man.
She wriggles and giggles at his barroom jests and
Prettily flushes at his lewd suggestions.
What has he got that I have not?
I think to myself as I squeeze a spot.
Why can't she see through to what I am
To the warrior beneath the awkward sham?
Many years later, children grown,
Marital discord in the home.
Ah, the champion man she knew
Was but the dream of an ingenue
That the waking woman came to rue.
And I am gone now to great success,
Always in the gossip columns of the gutter press,
Where Nordic blondes who are half my age
Hang around my neck on society page.
And Mrs Taylor has begun now to lose her figure,
Shoulders rounded, bottom bigger.
Worry and care contort her face
And scar her schoolgirl cool and grace
But though her eyes are tired and her smile full of weather
I loved her then and I will forever.
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor!
Mrs Taylor
Mrs Taylor.
Mrs Taylor.
Old man by a grave side in poor health,
Hoped to impress with fame and wealth
But the ordinary girl who, a lifetime long,
He tried to woo in poem and song
Is now a mere memory long since gone.
And though now hardly anyone recalls her story
Whereas he rose up to power and glory,
Capturing so many of the minds he met,
She only ever found him...
Very easy to forget."
The first five verses of this song are fractionally autobiographical. The latter verses are entirely fictional.
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