Time to go Time to go Time to go Yeah it's time to go Four of us on the curb tonight Dressed in suits of history's pride Pete says, "Mates, y'all ready to go?" Frank snarks back, "Dressed like this dontcha know?" Paul taps the glass, "Well, who's first to go?" Who cares? It ain't our first time bro Come on in the cabin we have another spacetime to go None of that mess was even in proper rhymes Too much repetitiveness, but Paul said "Thous kinda trained, so we should be fine" "Come on laddies! Enter the phonebooth of destiny!" So we entered the phonebox, hat to toe in youth Pete cuffs clacking, Frank already drinkin' Victorian era ready for the conquerin' What a strapping night for some time travelin' Paul had that monocle gleam on the eye Faceted diamond rings all shining their lies I picked up the phone and heard the tone on the line Then dialed the number, 18-85 Cabin went dark but we'd be alright Door opened, to top-hats bathe in moonlight Ohhhh yeah, Ladies and gents' Welcome to era victorian! [Hook] Yeah, It's time to go Time to go Time to go Raise your glass and make it known It's time to go Time to go Yeah time to go Era Victorian, here we go (here we go) Gas lamps flickering, handcrafted shoes clacketing Cobblestone streets from left to right A most praised sight under this new night Carriages clatter, horses' neighing soft sighs We step from the shadow to breathe in cigar lights Gents and Gentettes were walking the streets Smells of tailored jackets and ale most sweet Frank got enchanted, forthwith slipped off to drink, Straight for the pub, followed by Pete Meanwhile Paul felt he'd found the girl of his dreams A corseted belle in a burgundy gown laced in silk and ivory seams Her raven curls pinned beneath a gilded hairpiece, while her eyes basked in the lanterns gleam Our beau tipped his hat and bestowed a wink. She looked somewhat puzzled, as he gave her some unsolicited flirting Slithering, chasing her along the cobbled streets he looked like a king's fool dressed in peacocks bling Still, his grin was practiced, dare I say charming And somewhen somehow reached her footing "Fair maiden," he started serenadin' "Thy moon beauty only pales when compared to thou, O magnificent delicacy for the sights!.....may I joined thou in making thine night one most...sublimissime?" [Girl] "Your speech is rather peculiar, are you mayhaps from the Americas?" [Paul] I, uh, I, I grew up in France" [Girl] "Oh mon dieu! Moi-aussi! de quel région?" [Paul] "Uh, Sorry I, uh, I don't speak french..." ...Well he tried [Hook] We caught up with Frank and Pete at the pub The Gilded Boar, 'Come in! We've got warm beds and grub' Glanced at the bar, Frank already plastered, sipping his tenth bottle in the corner Pete to his side, sipping his third porter, humming some old tavern-born chanter I grabbed me a pint, took a pull, feeling able Then leaned with a grin right across the table [Tim] "Gents... shall we make this night more exciting? Any of yous fancying a wager?" [Pete] "About what?" [Frank] "I wager I'll outdrink you all" [Tim] "We know you can Frank. I was thinking something more like...how about horseracing?" [Frank] "You wanna go Fast and Furious Victorian style?" [Tim] "Sure, why not. Paul, you in?" [Paul] "Sorry, too drunk" [Frank] "You drank one pint!" [Paul] "I said I'm drunk! Hique" [Tim] "it's "hic" but no matter. Frank?" [Frank] "Yeah nah, my horse is too drunk" [Tim] "Pete, surely you would?" [Pete] "It's at the garage" [Tim] "You mean the stable right?" [Pete] "Yeah-yeah, that weird thingy that smells weird" [Lady] "I'll race with you" [Tim] "... and who would you be?" [Lady] "Becky Heinheart. From the US of A. I was practically raised by horses, i'll race ya" [Tim] "Well, to be fully honest, (psst! guys, is it more gentlemanly to duel her and put her inferior sex back in its place or to refuse downright? What is the Victorian way?)" [Frank ] "Bruv...just race the girl" [Paul] "By the divine hell of...um...hell! Frank, watch this mouth of yours, this champ shan't save thy arse from the rope another time" [Pete] "Paul... they don't say champ... and thy is shakespearian, not victorian" [Paul] "Shhht!" [Lady] "So, what will it be? Are we racing or are you too afraid of the fairer sex?" [Tim] "You're on lass! Let us fetch our horses! Where is your mount?" [Lady] "Over there" [Frank] "Oh my god.... that's a v4. A fourth generation pure blooded two hearted black horse, specifically bred for aerodynamics and fed to perfect weight. Those things are proven bearing carrier." [Tim] "It's a black bearing carrier?" [Frank] "Exactly... it's a bbc...bruv you're *beep*" [Pete] "Frank, for the love of whatever god they pray down here, make an effort to not be that obvious" [Lady] "So, what do you chaps think?" [Tim] "It's...magnificent..But isn't that beast a little vicious for your delicate hands? I am all for racing with a fair maiden, but as a gentleman I shouldn't allow you to needlessly put yourself in danger." [Pete] "And here we go...I'll get the scissors." Don't get me wrong, I admire the courage! Quite Truly. It is simply that bravery and judgement are seldom given equally! Now I don't doubt you ride well but this here horse's far too swell for such a sumptuous belle to lead safely out of hell. "London's streets can be dangerous milady, surely another horse would prove more adequate?" [Chap] "Who do you think you are, you puffed-up little ass in a borrowed hat? A gentleman shall respect any and all ladies, sir, even the unfortunate ones from the Americas. (Hey!) And judging by the four of you, that title has been handed out far too generously." You velvet-plated parasite, preening like a prince in debt, Paste jewels, pale manners, every gesture counterfeit. You’ve stitched a lord from upholstery and vanity combined, Yet somehow left the breeding and the fucking spine behind. You ale-marinated bastard, swaying sideways through the street, Your liver’s filed for separation, still you stagger on your feet. You call that drinking? Bacchus saw you, packed his bags and fled Even gin requires standards, yours apparently are dead. And bowler-boy, you pedant, forever poised to interject, A walking footnote nobody requested to inspect. You polish every syllable while standing amongst fools Congratulations, schoolmaster, you’re tallest in the stools. Now Top-Hat, Christ almighty, what catastrophe is this? A chimney gained opinions and developed prejudice. You call it gallantry to patronise a woman to her face? Sir, arrogance in eveningwear is arrogance with lace. She’s Yankee, grave misfortune, but she still outranks the lot; You four are what good tailoring was invented to disguise. One reeks, one preens, one lectures, one mistakes himself for class, Four gentlemen by wardrobe, four complete cunts by contrast. You strut like minor royalty with nothing worth inheriting, Every boast another nail, every sentence self-burying. Silk waistcoats cannot civilise what nature left obscene I’ve seen chamber pots with finer pedigree and kept them clean. So bow before the lady, pay your tab, collect your pride, Then gather up your pageantry and fuck yourselves outside. For if this is modern Britain, God preserve the bloody Crown You came dressed up as gentlemen and dragged the title down. [Pete] "Well, Tim, what says you? Tim? TIM!?" [Frank] "Look at him running...should we follow suit?" [Pete] "Undoubtedly.... Wait for us motherfucker!" [Hook] It's our time to go!
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