| Poor boy, up west, and the action wasnt going my way
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| Rich girl, best dressed, lookin like she come out to play
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| I stood back, you swept passed, I decided that Id give it a shot
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| I stepped in, I moved fast, I thought Id give it everything that Id got
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| We take tea at the ritz, I take you down to the docks
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| You can rely on me to lower the tone
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| You call me your bit of rough, I call you my bit of stuff
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| You aint brass, youre a touch of class
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| I like a pint, you like your bubbles
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| We have a whip round when you order your drink
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| Youre in whos who, Im whose in trouble
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| Youre upper class and Im the missing link
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| You got a bun (?) in your mouth and too much time on your hands
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| I got an accent, you can cut with a knife
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| Your dads a bit of a snob but mines a terminal slob
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| You aint brass, youre a touch of class
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| We go dutch, it aint much
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| I knew a classy girl like you wouldnt mind
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| A bit rough, a bit tough, a bit of low life knocks that perfect punch
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| — guitar solo —
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| You got a race horse at home, you keep him down on the farm
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| I buy the sporting life to studying the odds
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| I got a feel for the streets, you got your country retreat
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| You aint brass, youre a touch of class
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| You aint brass, youre a touch of class
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| You aint brass
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| Huh, youre a touch of class |