(mark hankins/chris bradford)
Poor boy, up west, and the action wasn't going my way
Rich girl, best dressed, lookin' like she come out to play
I stood back, you swept pa**ed, i decided that i'd give it a shot
I stepped in, i moved fast, i thought i'd give it everything that i'd got
We take tea at the ritz, i take you down to the docks
You can rely on me to lower the tone
You call me your bit of rough, i call you my bit of stuff
You ain't bra**, you're a touch of cla**
I like a pint, you like your bubbles
We have a whip round when you order your drink
You're in who's who, i'm whose in trouble
You're upper cla** and i'm the missing link
You got a bun(?) in your mouth and too much time on your hands
I got an accent, you can cut with a knife
Your dad's a bit of a snob but mine's a terminal slob
You ain't bra**, you're a touch of cla**
We go dutch, it ain't much
I knew a cla**y girl like you wouldn't mind
A bit rough, a bit tough, a bit of low life knocks that perfect punch
- guitar solo -
You got a race horse at home, you keep him down on the farm
I buy the sporting life to studying the odds
I got a feel for the streets, you got your country retreat
You ain't bra**, you're a touch of cla**
You ain't bra**, you're a touch of cla**
You ain't bra**
Huh, you're a touch of cla**