Down the way from the tottenham court roadJust round the corner from old sohoThere’s a place where the publishers goIf you don’t know which way to goJust open your ears and follow your nose’cos the street is shakin’ from the tapping of toesYou can hear that music play anytime on any dayEvery rhythm, every wayYou got to a publisher and play him your songHe says ’i hate your music and you hair is too longBut I’ll sign you up because I’d hate to be wrong’You’ve got a tune it’s in your head you want to get it placedSo you take it up to a music man just to see what he will sayHe says ’i hate the tune, I hate the words but I’ll tell you what I’ll doI’ll sign you up and take it round the street and see if it makes the grade’And you might even hear it played on the rock ’n’ roll hit paradeDaytime, night time, every week you can hear that heavy beatNow the walls are shaking from the tapping of feetDaytime, night time, every day you can hear that music playEvery rhythm, every way