Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs, Of every head he´s had the pleasure to have known. And all the people that come and go, Stop and say hello. On the corner is a banker with a motorcar, The little children laugh at him behind his back. And the banker never wears a mac, In the pouring rain, Very strange. Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, There beneath the blue suburban skies. I sit, and meanwhile back. In Penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass, And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen. He likes to keep his fire engine clean, It´s a clean machine. Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, Four of fish and finger pies. In summer, meanwhile back. Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout, A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray. And though she feels as if she´s in a play, She is anyway. Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer, We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim. Then the fireman rushes in, From the pouring rain, Very strange. Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, There beneath the blue suburban skies. I sit, and meanwhile back. Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes, There beneath the blue suburban skies. Penny Lane.