It was early one morning, the fish were jumping high,
The policemen were in their
Uniforms, there were aeroplanes in the sky,
Young Wellington raised his glasses to the sky of ever-so-blue,
Saying "Let's collect some engine numbers down at Waterloo"
A day-off comes so seldom in a Womble's working year,
That they like to make the most of them whenever they appear,
So he put away his Tidy Bag and joined the breakfast queue,
Saying, "Soon I'll be London Town, down at Waterloo"
Ooh, Ticket Collector, ticket-collecting all day long,
If you let me look at the engines, I'll sing you a Wombling Song.
So he wandered on to Platform Six, his notebook in his paw,
He cleaned his glasses with a rag he found upon the floor,
Just then a mighty Pullman Train came rattling into Town,
So Wellington whipped his notebook out and got the number down.
Ooh, Ticket Collector, ticket-collecting all day long,
If you let me look at the engines, I'll sing you a Wombling Song.
Ooh, Ticket Collector, ticket-collecting all day long,
If you let me look at the engines, I'll sing you a Wombling Song.
The trains pulled in and out again, 'til Wellington's book filled up,
So he poured his thermos flask of tea into his plastic cup,
He assessed the situation as he sipped the steaming brew,
"It's so nice collecting engine numbers, down at Waterloo."
Ooh, Ticket Collector, ticket-collecting all day long,
If you let me look at the engines, I'll sing you a Wombling Song.
Ooh, Ticket Collector, ticket-collecting all day long,
If you let me look at the engines, I'll sing you a Wombling Song.