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Our mum and dad, they look straight down the lens
In funny flared trousers on the banks of the Thames
On holiday June 75
They met in a youth club by the stadium gates
Dad built new houses for George Wimpey Estates
That's where he first learnt his trade
And his hands were full of blisters blood and dirt
And his life was set in love and faith and work
Our mum I see her outside the school gates
Looking all anxious if we come out too late
Oh to have her arms around me now
She worked part time, 3 days a week at the bank
Saving us bottle tops and Green Shield stamps
That damn Ted Heath he don't understand
I can see you hanging washing on the line
I can hear your laughter every Christmas time
Our mum and dad they turned older and grey
I watched Margaret Thatcher take their jobs away
Our mum said she could try the patience of a Saint
The 90s flew by and dad moved to his chair
Mum left the choir, as she couldn't get there
And nobody came to the house
And we pin our hopes on things that are so frail
We try so hard but fabulously fail