Get aboard the last train to SkavillennA windmill stands in the city of spadesnThe Effra River flows under Granville ArcadennOld dogs in cold harbour have fond memoriesnRemember the days, this was Viking countrynNatives blacks and werewolves, yeah, we got it allnEvery kind of exotic friut on the market stallnnThose drums keep on poundingnSince they moved in down the streetnCold wet surroundingsnThe cops don't like the beatnnNo nonnCost of bread is rising, the area's run downnThey painted up the brickwork, they painted up the townnnWhile my brother dug the ramjam, I got flea-pit matineesnAnd we'd catch the number 2, go up West for the daynTighten Up, volume 2, sound system bon marchénRoits on Jebb Avenue, down Marcus Garvey WaynnThose drums keep on poundingnSince they moved in down the streetnCold wet surroundingsnThe cops don't like the beatnnNo nonnA windmill stands in the city of spadesnThe Effra River flows under Granville ArcadennThere's Christmas lights on Railton Road, it looks like Oxford StreetnIf Santa's got electric goods, he'd better have receiptsnI got no airs and graces, always been this waynAfter all I come from Brixton what else can I saynnJust watching, calm downnOh, sweet Lord