Ian Dury - My Old Man lyrics

My old man wore three piece whistles, he was never home for long Drove a bus for London Transport, he knew where he belonged Number 18 down to Euston, double decker move along Double decker move along, my old man. 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 when his ulcer got too big When his ulcer got too big, my old man 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.