Sweet Gene Vincent-Ian Dury

Skinny white sailor, the chances were slender, the beauties were brief Shall I mourn your decline with some Thunderbird wine and a black handkerchief? I miss your sad Virginia whisper, I miss the voice that called my heart Sweet Gene Vincent Young and old and gone Sweet Gene Vincent Who, who, who slapped John? White face, black shirt White socks, black shoes Black hair, white strat Bled white, died black Sweet Gene Vincent Let the Blue Caps roll tonight At the Sock Hop Ball in the Union Hall The bop is their delight Here come duck-tail Danny dragging uncanny Annie, she's the one with the flying feet You can break the peace, daddy sickle grease, the beat is reet complete And the jump-back honey in the dungarees, tight sweater and a pony-tail Will you guess her age when she comes back-stage, the hoodlums bite their nails Black gloves, white frost Black crêpe, white lead White sheet, black knight Jet black, dead white Sweet Gene Vincent There's one in every town And the devil drives 'til the hearse arrives And you lay that pistol down Sweet Gene Vincent With nowhere left to hide With lazy skin and ashtray eyes And perforated pride So farewell, mademoiselle knicker-bocker hotel Goodbye to money owed But your leg still hurts and you need more shirts You got to get back on the road