The Ruling Class

My old man’s a Viscount
And he wears a Viscount’s crown
He buys me Cardin trousers
Of a tasteful shade of dark brown
He got his blue at Oxford
And he pays my boating fees
He sends me Fortnum’s hampers
So that I won’t get hungry
He was my man and he done me wrong
He was my man and he done me wrong
My old man’s an earl now
And he wears an ermine gown
He sends me an allowance
To spend in Eton town
He drives a yellow Bentley
And he beats me with his wrench
He hires me private tutors
To help me in my French
He was my man and he done me wrong
He was my man and he done me wrong
My old girl’s a duchess
And she wears a Hartnell frock
She’s picked me out a Cheltenham girl
Of Suffolk breeding stock
My young fag’s an MP’s son
And he warms my toilet seat
I thrash him with a whip
To make his character complete
He was my man and I done him wrong
He was my man but it done him good