The Safety Valve of Polite Expression.

1970s British light orchestral pop, television library music

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[Verse 1]

When the stubbed toe meets the table leg of fate,
And the tea is boiling over on the grate,
We swallow down the thunder in our chest,
And pick the polished phrases we like best.

[Verse 2]

In polite society, we hold the line,
Where vicar meets parishioners to dine,
And rather than let loose a wrathful shout,
We let a quirky safety valve slip out.

[Verse 3]

"In the name of the wee man!" the valleys cry,
When unexpected chaos wanders by,
Or "fiddlesticks and flapdoodle" we say,
To chase the rising storm clouds far away.

[Chorus]

Oh, sugar-honey-ice-tea and good grief,
We wrap our frustrations in a leaf,
From "blimey" down to "oh, for goodness sakes,"
We navigate the tremors and the quakes.
It's just a funny little human game,
To tame the beast without a proper name.

[Verse 4]

When someone's losing touch and looking frail,
We tell 'em, "sharpen up your pencil," clear the trail,
A gentle code for telling them to cope,
Without destroying all their fragile hope.

[Verse 5]

They guard our tongues when tempers start to fray,
And keep the stormy, jagged edge at bay,
A social shield of nonsense and delight,
To keep the peace throughout the daily fight.

[Verse 6]

For language is a pressure-cooker valve,
Where every single culture loves to carve
A harmless little token of relief,
To mask the sudden flash of daily grief.

[Pre-Chorus]

So bless the lexicon of mild disguise,
That keeps the fire hidden in our eyes,
And turns a potential explosion to a sigh.

[Chorus]

[Coda]

A clever trick to keep our manners sound,
While letting off the steam without a bound.
Ooh!, 'Did I see a flying duck'.

[Fade/Drift Off]

We mumble through the madness day by day,
And smile politely as we walk away,
It's , The Safety Valve of Polite Expression.

2012/7500

[Verse 1] When the stubbed toe meets the table leg of fate, And the tea is boiling over on the grate, We swallow down the thunder in our chest, And pick the polished phrases we like best. [Verse 2] In polite society, we hold the line, Where vicar meets parishioners to dine, And rather than let loose a wrathful shout, We let a quirky safety valve slip out. [Verse 3] "In the name of the wee man!" the valleys cry, When unexpected chaos wanders by, Or "fiddlesticks and flapdoodle" we say, To chase the rising storm clouds far away. [Chorus] Oh, sugar-honey-ice-tea and good grief, We wrap our frustrations in a leaf, From "blimey" down to "oh, for goodness sakes," We navigate the tremors and the quakes. It's just a funny little human game, To tame the beast without a proper name. [Verse 4] When someone's losing touch and looking frail, We tell 'em, "sharpen up your pencil," clear the trail, A gentle code for telling them to cope, Without destroying all their fragile hope. [Verse 5] They guard our tongues when tempers start to fray, And keep the stormy, jagged edge at bay, A social shield of nonsense and delight, To keep the peace throughout the daily fight. [Verse 6] For language is a pressure-cooker valve, Where every single culture loves to carve A harmless little token of relief, To mask the sudden flash of daily grief. [Pre-Chorus] So bless the lexicon of mild disguise, That keeps the fire hidden in our eyes, And turns a potential explosion to a sigh. [Chorus] Oh, sugar-honey-ice-tea and good grief, We wrap our frustrations in a leaf, From "blimey" down to "oh, for goodness sakes," We navigate the tremors and the quakes. It's just a funny little human game, To tame the beast without a proper name. [Coda] A clever trick to keep our manners sound, While letting off the steam without a bound. Ooh!, 'Did I see a flying duck'. [Fade/Drift Off] We mumble through the madness day by day, And smile politely as we walk away, It's , The Safety Valve of Polite Expression.

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