I've just had a bit of an argument in the milk
Bar with a couple of members from the house of lords.
As the milk was rather strong,
We all declared along that the working man don't get his just rewards
They said there's lots of truth in what they
Say cause I put the question to em in this way
Now who's the bloke that's made old England what she is today
The poor old working man.
And when the budgets faster with it at
The smile of pay the poor old working man.
They think that he's a dud
His name is simply mud
They treat him absolutely like a cat.
He sits there on the doorstep if the doctor he should call
Suddenly who lay its twins he hears a muddy bawl
His wife takes all the credit and he gets none at all
The poor old working man.
You'll always find him there he always does his share
In fact he does a lot more like a cat
And in every kind of sport you'll find he plays the biggest part
He can run and jump and fight and he can throw a pretty dart
But who's the mug they'll call up first if another war should start
Why the poor old working man.
