THE LOWER CRUST
Born to a life in Hampstead
But I'm living in Gospel Oak
From Birmingham to Banstead
The working class make me choke
With their glottal stops
And wrap around shades
It's getting beyond a joke
If I'm not outa here by Monday
I'm going to have a fucking stroke
Born to a life in Hampstead
But I'm on a council estate
Listening to dropped aitches
Is one of the things I hate
With their 'firty frees'
And shell suit styles
It's leaving me in dire straits
If I make it across the border
I'll order champagne in crates
Born to a life in Hampstead
And I'm scared to walk out at night
I've tried reasoning with my neighbours
But they don't seem terribly bright
With a guard dog here
And a Pit Bull there
It's only their owners that bite
Well I'm leaving here on Monday
On a carpet of dog shite
