Half past every Wednesday
When the sun is high
Burton Mumby disappears
And nobody knows why.

It's a quiet little town
With happy cobbled roads
And half past every Wednesday
In a flash, it goes.

It's not swallowed
by an earthquake
Or washed away by a flood
But half past EVERY Wednesday,
It becomes a big patch of mud.

It's back on Thursday morning
As if it never went away
And you'd think
The people, homes and such
Would have something to say.

But they never notice
Or they never see
And they never know
That they cease to be

To them it's a blink,
It's a wink,
It's a tick.
It's almost as if
Burton Mumby went 'HIC!'

So if, perchance,
You happen to be
At half past Wednesday
In Burton Mumby

Don't be alarmed
If things don't seem quite right.
It's nothing compared
To a Sunday night!ZY