| David Foster lives in Gloucester with his family
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| Works 'til pay-time, through the day-time, then comes home for tea
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| Steak and kidney, then with Sydney to his club and feels free
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| They close the bar, he finds his car and then goes home to sleep
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| And his wife has been with Rosie, in the parlour where it’s cosy
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| Watching telly, doing dishes, patching pants and making wishes
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| And he’ll say «Bill should have wired»
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| And «Not tonight dear, I’m too tired»
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| And life drifts slowly by in the provinces
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| Peter Foster goes to Gloucester for his first school day
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| Bites his teacher, sees a preacher and is taught to pray
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| Sees some birds and learns some words it’s very, very rude to say
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| Yes, he’s rather like his father was in his young day
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| And his father has discussions, holding forth about the Russians
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| «Will the Red Chinese attack us?»
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| «Do we need the Yanks to back us?
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| «And in bed she feels his shoulder, but he grunts and just turns over
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| And life drifts slowly by in the provinces
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| Wedding rings come with strings but love depends on the little things
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| «Oh could that still be really you?»
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| «Is there anything time can’t do?
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| David Foster’s been promoted, he’s a decent sort
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| Peter’s gone to Dad’s old Public School, it’s good for sport
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| They’ve even got a private parking place down in Huntingdon Court
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| Maybe soon he’ll be a magistrate, the neighbours thought
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| Yes, and then he’ll teach the beatniks
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| And the hang-around-the-streetnicks
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| And the good-for-nothing loafers
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| Who knock girls up on their sofas
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| And his wife is quite nice, really
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| Though she seems a little dreamy
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| Recently…
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| I was born and brought up on the east side of town
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| And my earliest days they passed quickly
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| I would play after school with the kids all around
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| In the sun and the dust of the back streets
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| Oh, all through my girlhood the war had its day
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| And my daddy he would always be leaving
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| So my brother and I we would sit by her side
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| Telling our tales through the evening
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| Oh, I grew with the days and the boys came to call
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| In the back shed I learned about kissing
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| But I don’t think my mother has noticed at all
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| For we’ve heard that my daddy is missing
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| Then my school days they were over and I went off to work
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| And my mother grew quieter and greyer
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| So one day I left her and went off to live
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| With Billy, a saxophone player
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| In our broken down attic we laughed and made love
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| And all that we had we were sharing
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| Oh, we slept through the day and played into the night
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| God, we did as we pleased without caring
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| Oh but a year’s passed away and he’s left me one day
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| To play in a far away country
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| And the sun told my eyes «You've got no place to hide»
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| As I waited to be having his baby
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| Oh I lived in the park and the men passed and stared
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| Each wondering which one had lost her
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| And one came to ask could he buy me a meal
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| And he said he was called David Foster
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| We were married that month and I swore to myself
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| Somehow I’d pay back what I owed him
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| Cooking his supper and cleaning his boots
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| Yes, and kidding myself I could love him
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| Oh, but now my baby is grown and he’s gone out to school
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| And he looks very much like his daddy
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| And David has buried himself in his work
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| And the time on my hands, it hangs heavy
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| Oh, the neighbours they smile as we pass in the streets
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| And they make their remarks on the weather
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| But the butcher and baker deliver things now
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| And I’ve stopped going out altogether
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| Oh, I live by my mirror and stare in my eyes
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| Trying to make out who I see there
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| But I’m looking at a woman that I can’t recognize
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| And I don’t think she knows me either
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| There are lines on her face and her hair is a mess
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| And the light in her eyes it grows colder
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| In the morning there’s nothing will change, ah but yes
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| I will be just a little bit older |