All the wonders of the world (which number seven), Or the glories of the Lord (who lives in heaven), Can scarce at all compare, Nor can even Samson's hair, To that of Tommy Naylor's inter-stellar handbag. All the colours of the rainbow (or the spangles), Or the theories of Pythag' (who knew the angles), Just don't come up to scratch, Jackie Trent and Tony Hatch Are as nought before that Tommy Naylor's handbag. All the thirty shades of green (the Micks speak well of), Or the gasworks by the Thames (I love the smell of), Just haven't got a chance, Nor has fair Salome's dance, To hold a candle to that Tommy Naylor's handbag. (Chorus) Naylor's handbag - the peasants stand and cheer. Naylor's handbag - all your troubles disappear. Naylor's handbag - I think that Naylor's somewhat queer. And as far as I'm concerned, he can stick his handbag!