Lyrics Ian Dury – My Old Man

My old man wore three piece whistles
He was never home for long
Drove a bus for London Transport
He knew where he belonged

Later on he drove a Roller
Chauffeuring for foreign men
Dropped his aitches on occasion
Said, «Cor blimey» now and then
Did the crossword in the Standard
At the airport in the rain
At the airport in the rain
My old man

Wouldn’t ever let his governers
Call him ‘Billy’, he was proud
Personal reasons make a difference
His last boss was allowed
Perhaps he had to keep his distance
Made a racket when he rowed
Made a racket when he rowed
My old man
My old man

My old man was fairly handsome
He smoked too many cigs
Lived in one room in Victoria
He was tidy in his digs
Had to have an operation

My old man

Seven years went out the window
We met as one to one
Died before we’d done much talking
Relations had begun
All the while we thought about each other
All the best mate, from your son
All the best mate, from your son
My old man
My old man