No. Punk killed kilburn stone dead. Read me post again.
Deary me By some bizarre freak of nature you seem to have missed ALL the best stuff of an entire era. You're just quoting wall-to-wall shite bands at me. I win. You lose. Laughing AT you
No offence
i had a love affair with nina in the back of my cortina , rum in her rybena , rubbing up between her
oh you ask joyce and vicky if candyfloss aint sticky , i"m not a common thicky , i"m billaricay dicky and i"m doing very well !!!
c,mon that one was up there with sting gimme jam.gimme better
There's tarts and whores but you're much more
You're a different kind cause you want their minds
And you just don't care cause youve got no pride
It's just a face on your pillowcase....
That thrills you
I never thought it would happen
With me and the girl from clapham
Out on a windy common
That night I ain’t forgotten
When she dealt out the rations
With some or other passions
I said you are a lady
Perhaps she said I may be
We moved into a basement
With thoughts of our engagement
We stayed in by the telly
Although the room was smelly
We spent our time just kissing
The railway arms we’re missing
But love had got us hooked up
And all our time it took up
I got a job with stanley
He said I’d come in handy
And started me on monday
So I had a bath on sunday
I worked eleven hours
And bought the girl some flowers
She said she’d seen a doctor
And nothing now could stop her
I worked all through the winter
The weather brass and bitter
I put away a tenner
Each week to make her better
And when the time was ready
We had to sell the telly
Late evenings by the fire
With little kicks inside her
This morning at 4:50
I took her rather nifty
Down to an incubator
Where thirty minutes later
She gave birth to a daughter
Within a year a walker
She looked just like her mother
If there could be another
And now she’s two years older
Her mother’s with a soldier
She left me when my drinking
Became a proper stinging
The devil came and took me
From bar to street to bookie
No more nights by the telly
No more nights nappies smelling
Alone here in the kitchen
I feel there’s something missing
I’d beg for some forgiveness
But begging’s not my business
And she won’t write a letter
Although I always tell her
And so it’s my assumption
I’m really up the junction
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wins by a mile
its sad that they will all be forgotten in time and all that will be remembered are classic lyrics such as Dontcha wish ya girlfriend was hot like me.
We cower in our shelters
With our hands over our ears
Lloyd-Webber's awful stuff
Runs for years and years and years
An earthquake hits the theatre
But the operetta lingers
Then the piano lids comes down
And break his f***ing fingers
It's a miracle
Is that the same dr feelgood who had a top ten hit with milk and alcohol in 1979 who were done and dusted by 1976 ?Is that the dreary pub-rock band that finally knocked it on the head just before punk came along? Dead and buried along with Dr Feelgood and Eddie and the Hot Rods by 1976. Sorry, you lose. The cognoscenti are NEVER wrong. Specially when it comes to punk
Absolutely superb, cool for cats still my favourite though . Squeeze, forever south londonI never thought it would happen
With me and the girl from clapham
Out on a windy common
That night I ain’t forgotten
When she dealt out the rations
With some or other passions
I said you are a lady
Perhaps she said I may be
We moved into a basement
With thoughts of our engagement
We stayed in by the telly
Although the room was smelly
We spent our time just kissing
The railway arms we’re missing
But love had got us hooked up
And all our time it took up
I got a job with stanley
He said I’d come in handy
And started me on monday
So I had a bath on sunday
I worked eleven hours
And bought the girl some flowers
She said she’d seen a doctor
And nothing now could stop her
I worked all through the winter
The weather brass and bitter
I put away a tenner
Each week to make her better
And when the time was ready
We had to sell the telly
Late evenings by the fire
With little kicks inside her
This morning at 4:50
I took her rather nifty
Down to an incubator
Where thirty minutes later
She gave birth to a daughter
Within a year a walker
She looked just like her mother
If there could be another
And now she’s two years older
Her mother’s with a soldier
She left me when my drinking
Became a proper stinging
The devil came and took me
From bar to street to bookie
No more nights by the telly
No more nights nappies smelling
Alone here in the kitchen
I feel there’s something missing
I’d beg for some forgiveness
But begging’s not my business
And she won’t write a letter
Although I always tell her
And so it’s my assumption
I’m really up the junction
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