Who's Gonna Tell? - The Beautiful South

Who’s gonna tell the orange they’re actually brown?

Who’s gonna mop up for grey when they’ve painted the town?

It’s the news that everyone dreads;

that we’re no longer painting it red

That our gag’s still funny, but they’ve opted for a different clown

You were great in the sixties, but we’re gonna have to pull you down

Nothing like the sound of the shallow jumping in at the deep

Royalty’s balloon coming down is a memorable shriek

Nothing quite like the sickening clout of the dive into pool drained out

You excelled as a Queen, but you’ll have to return the crown

You were great in the sixties, but we’re gonna have to pull you down

Who’s gonna tell the tall they’re beginning to shrink?

Like who’s gonna tell the Swiss they’re no longer in sync?

We’ll have to get the maroon in a separate counselling room

Say, «It may be your washer, but you seem to be fading to pink»

Yesterday’s ice-cool doesn’t take long to melt and sink

Who’s gonna tell the cities that are acting like towns

They’re actually just a village that the posh surrounds

The diplomatic answer to your 25-stone dancer

Is your act’s still great, but we can’t keep changing a pound

You were Queen in your day, but you’re gonna have to give back the crown

You excelled as a Queen, but you’ll have to return the crown

You were great in the sixties, but we’re gonna have to pull you down

You excelled as a Queen, but you’ll have to return the crown

You were great in the sixties, but we’re gonna have to pull you down