She left her school for the factory 
From pocket money to a salary, 
From a pac-a-mac to a compact case 
And every morning she inspects her face. 
She discovers pulling pints in pubs 
That the good looks will never cover up for 
Her dumbness in taking the stock 
Sees her reflection in a butcher's shop. 
She finds it all quite rare 
That her meat's all vanity fair. 

She has her eyes on medallion men 
Who get her home on the dot at ten, 
She combs her hair when she gets excused 
The deal she wants always ends up screwed. 
Paints her nails on the bathroom scales 
Gargles her breath like a landed whale, 
Her beauty is as deep as her skin 
Keeps her eyebrows in a tobacco tin. 
She poses foot on the chair 
Coconut shy but vanity fair. 

In her vanity case her compact case 
In her compact case her eyes, 
Not bad for a sister 
But her vanity's fair and her sense of humour's dry. 
She comes home late with another screw loose 
She swears to have had just a pineapple juice, 
Falls asleep fully clothed in her bed 
With her makeup remover by her head. 
And she might not be all there 
But her dream's all vanity fair.