| We’re going to the country in a thirty foot Rolls Royce
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| I’m your long serving driver, your chauffeur of choice
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| You probably never noticed I loved you from afar
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| I am awkward, coy and nervous when you’re travelling in my car
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| Though my father always told me how a man should know his place
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| I lose all decorum when I look back and see your face
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| The rear view gets all misty and the road ahead is bleak
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| I’ll drive you for the weekend but you drive me mad all week
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| Oh tell me there is love across the class divide
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| I’d be in bourgeois heaven with you by my side
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| I am just a chauffeur who really hopes for
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| The honour of his passenger’s hand
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| Now maybe in the Hamptons your heart will start to melt
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| You’ll start to see this driver as someone like a friend
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| And though I’m not a gambling man I’ll maybe take a punt
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| To ask you come and join me and sit with me up front
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| It’s done a man like me no good to drive alone in cars
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| My mind just tends to wander and take things way too far
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| Though my father always told me that the rich won’t love the poor
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| I still believe my sweetheart you could love your poor chauffeur
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| Oh tell me there is love across the class divide
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| I’d be in bourgeois heaven with you by my side
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| I am just a chauffeur who really hopes for
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| The honour of his passenger’s hand |