Lyrics

Lover of all things fish
You would create the perfect dish
Your love of butter, cream and wine
Always made your food divine
Your aim was to educate
Your genius on every plate
Made the nation wanna cook with you
And always get drunk 2,3,4

As a child there was no money
Your mother’d get paid in rind
It would give you satisfaction
But you were always in distraction
Never managing financial positivity
A trail of disasters would lead you
Fleeing from hostility

You were Keith Floyd
The man on the move
You were Keith Floyd
In the kitchen you would groove
The memories you created
The many women that you dated
Always finishing your day
In an alcoholic kinda way

From reporter to soldier
To restaurant exploiter
From living in France or
Sailing to Gibraltar
Your culinary adventures mostly led you to disaster
One day the BBC showed up
Offerring salvation

You were Keith Floyd
The man on the move
You were Keith Floyd
In the kitchen you would groove
The memories you created
The many women that you dated
Always finishing your day
In an alcoholic kinda way

A life full of chaos
Generosity and loss
When it came to living dangerously
You couldn’t give a toss
Your rudeness to your customers
Is what kept them coming back
Your banter with the camera
Kept the shirt upon your back

You were Keith Floyd
The man on the move
You were Keith Floyd
In the kitchen you would groove
The memories you created,
The many women that you dated
Always finishing your day
In an alcoholic kinda way

You showed us all how right you were
That food with wine is always fine
Everywhere and every night
All around the world you cooked
You’d stand proud, bow tied and fancy shirt,
Always ready for one last slurp,
For one last slurp
For one last slurp…

You were Keith Floyd
The man on the move
You were Keith Floyd
In the kitchen you would groove
The memories you created
The many women that you dated
Always finishing your day
In an alcoholic kinda way