A hop, skip, and jump down the street, there’s a store

Selling knicknacks and trinkets and baubles galore

When you think you’ve seen all of it, somehow there’s more

And the saleswoman’s working away.

There are floor-to-roof windows and glowing displays

Showing custom-made clothes and consignments for days

And if you somehow get through the bright thrift-shop haze

There’s the saleswoman working away.

If you strike up a chat, then you’ll see in her face

That she’s sweeter than all the love sold in this place

And you’ll see that in rain or shine, in any case,

There’s the saleswoman working away.

She is easy to know and still easier to love

With the light of a budgie and peace of a dove

And you’ll see the bright future you’ve always dreamed of

In the saleswoman working away.

So you’ll walk in one day at a quarter to two

And the sun-faded air will look fatefully new

And you’ll ask her to walk through the village with you

When the saleswoman leaves for the day.

And her fingers will fidget with soft, homemade string

And her eyes will drift off when the door-chime will ring

“I’ll be busy tonight, I can’t do anything,

I’m afraid I’ll be working away.”

So you’ll frantically think to make some other plan

But you’ll glance at the string that she’s wrapped round her hand

As her eyes scan the storeroom, you’ll then understand

That she’ll always be working away.

A hop, skip, and jump down the street, there’s a store

Selling knicknacks and trinkets and baubles galore

But hold tight to your heart when you walk in the door -

There’s the saleswoman working away.