Americans cannot believe the social snobbery

That stymied my life as a grammar school boy

From a working class family. Such a clash of cultures

Hip-hip-hoy-hoy - the posh boys had the cars n stuff

But we had the taste for the blues, knew where

To score on a rainy day. Liked girls. Knew what happened

When a mum went away. Our scooters were bought

On HP and we loved the feel of the girl sitting behind

Lambrettas, Vespers, Parkers, Union Jacks and such.

We listened to the Who and also to the Small faces

I suppose if we were here today, you'd call us fascists. 

A town like Malice. Hip-hip-hop-hop-hurray.