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.