Beatles

In penny lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head hes had the pleasure to know.
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello.
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar,
The little children laugh at him behind his back.
And the banker never wears a mack
In the pouring rain, very strange.
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back
In penny lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
Its a clean machine.
Penny lane is in my ears and in my eyes.