[Intro — low strings, brushed snare, distant trumpet] In the night, Under sirens and light, There’s a man they cannot read. Every scan, Every specialist’s plan, Only deepens the mystery. [Verse 1] They rushed old Howard into town, The sirens split the dawn, They scanned him high, they scanned him low, From dusk till near day’s gone. They prodded him, they poked him some, They checked him head to boot, The doctors scratched their clever heads But found nothing resolute. [Half Chorus — rising brass] They said, “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? We’ve tested every bone and limb. His pulse is odd, His manners grim— So tell us... What’s wrong with him?” [Verse 2] He’s the fastest remote control That ever rode the west, He watches films at four-times speed And reckons that’s the best. He missed the kiss, he missed the twist, He missed the murder plot, But still he slapped his knee and cried, “Well, that was total rot!” [Verse 3] Recommend a show to Howard And he’ll scowl and huff and say, “What load of rubbish is this now? I won’t waste half a day.” Then seven seasons later, With the curtains drawn in tight, He’s watched the whole thing twice again And says, “It’s still not right.” [Full Chorus — big brass] They said, “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? We’ve tested every bone and limb. His pulse is odd, His manners grim— So tell us, what’s wrong with him?” Then someone leaned back, cold as steel, And said, “The answer’s this: For that is Howard Worden... And that’s the way he is.” [Verse 4] Give Howard any gadget Fresh and gleaming from the store, He’ll never use the thing itself, He’ll hunt the hidden door. He’ll fiddle with the contrast, The firmware and the tone, Till it speaks in ancient Spanish And won’t connect by phone. [Break — trumpet solo, spy guitar] Howard Worden. Scourge of the settings menu. Fastest remote control in the West. Breaker of barbecues. Mender of motors. Watcher of rubbish at four-times speed. [Verse 5] Now Howard can fix motors That most men would send away, He’ll coax an old car back to life With wire, hope, and spray. He’s spent a lifetime saving things That others would replace, And lost a fortune saving cash With grease upon his face. [Verse 6] He’d rather spend three weekends With a spanner and a cough, Than buy the newer working part And simply switch it off. A broken hinge, a rusty pump, A mower from the dead— He’ll fix the lot, then proudly say, “That’s money saved,” instead. [Full Chorus — bigger, darker] They said, “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? We’ve tested every bone and limb. His pulse is odd, His manners grim— So tell us, what’s wrong with him?” Then someone leaned back, cold as steel, And said, “The answer’s this: For that is Howard Worden... And that’s the way he is.” [Verse 7 — suspenseful] Then came the old tin barbecue, All battered, burnt, and black, Its useful days were long since gone, Its legs were bent and cracked. He only had to break it down And haul it to the tip, But Howard saw those rusted bolts And tightened up his grip. [Verse 8 — drums build] He battled every frozen nut, Each screw became a war, He muttered like a secret agent Wounded at the door. By sundown he had won the fight But lost the greater game— For off he went to hospital, The barbecue to blame. [Half Chorus — dramatic pause] They said, “What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? We’ve tested every bone and limb. His pulse is odd, His manners grim— So tell us... What’s wrong with him?” [Bridge — full orchestra] No file could ever hold him, No chart could solve the quiz, No clever consultation Could say what Howard is. A medical enigma, A mystery wrapped in fizz— They searched for an explanation, But the answer’s simply this. [Final Chorus — huge and slow] What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? His children ask, “Now what is this?” The doctors searched, The nurses sighed, But still the answer is: What’s wrong with him? What’s wrong with him? [Final Tag — brass swell] [sung softly] The final diagnosis: He’s always been like that, my friend— [full orchestra hit] That’s just the ... way ... he ... is. [End of Song]
