On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes, the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.I wipe them away with a black woolly gloveAnd try not to notice I've fallen in loveOn Waterloo Bridge I am trying to think: This is nothing. You're high on the charm and the drink. But the juke-box inside me is playing a songThat says something different. And when was it wrong?On Waterloo Bridge with the wind in my hairI am tempted to skip. You're a fool. I don't care. The head does its best but the heart is the boss-I admit it before I am halfway across
Wendy Cope