There's No Truth In The Rumours

by Clive James and Pete Atkin

But here
Is where we must bow out
Right here
Is where the whole thing ends
And just
In case you're still in doubt
There's no truth in the rumours
We're just friends

Not that
We've anything of course
Against
That special breed of lad
Or lass
Or cat or dog or horse
Whatever makes you feel good
Can't be bad

Though living in each other's lap
We are the usual kind of chap
Depend on it
But since we're in the same small boat
We try to strike the proper note
And end on it

Do-re-mi-fa-
So here
Is where we must bow out
Right here
Is where the whole thing ends
And just
In case you're still in doubt
There's no truth in the rumours
We're just friends

You think that we protest too much?
We shiver at each other's touch
Perhaps we're repressing a deep need
Did Sappho, Michelangelo
And Proust know something we don't know
Along with Jean Cocteau and André Gide?
And what about the Venerable Bede?

So here
Is where we must bow out
Right here
Is where the whole thing ends
And just
In case you're still in doubt
There's no truth in the rumours
We're just friends