| Well we were heroes then, and the girls were all pretty
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| And a uniform was a lucky charm, bought you the key to the city
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| We used to dance the whole night through
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| While Al Bowlly sang «The Very Thought Of You»
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| Now Bowlly’s in heaven and I’m in limbo now
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| Well I gave my youth to king and country
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| But what’s my country done for me but sentenced me to misery
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| I traded my helmet and my parachute
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| For a pair of crutches and a demob suit
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| Al Bowlly’s in heaven and I’m in limbo now
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| Hard times, hard hard times
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| Hostels and missions and dosser’s soup lines
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| Can’t close me eyes on a bench or a bed
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| For the sound of some battle raging in my head
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| Old friends, you lose so many
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| You get run around, all over town
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| The wear and the tear, oh it just drives you down
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| St Mungo’s with its dirty old sheets
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| Beats standing all day down on Scarborough Street
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| Al Bowlly’s in heaven and I’m in limbo now
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| Can’t stay here, you got to foot-slog
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| Once in a blue moon you might find a job
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| Sleep in the rain, you sleep in the snow
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| When the beds are all taken you’ve got nowhere to go
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| Well I can see me now, I’m back there on the dance floor
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| Oh with a blonde on me arm, red-head to spare
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| Spit on my shoes and shine in me hair
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| And there’s Al Bowlly, he’s up on a stand
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| Oh that was a voice and that was a band
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| Al Bowlly’s in heaven and I’m in limbo now |