paroles de chanson Rolling Around Piccadilly - George Formby

I′m such a hot-headed young scoundrel, I might be an under-done steak
My father, you know, was a gardener,
So I've turned out a bit of a rake
I know I′m too restless and daring,
But youth wants its fling, you're aware
I once told that to some girl's husband
And he flung me down three flights of stairs
I′m so fast I′ll get into trouble, no doubt
I terrify London each time I go out
When I'm rolling around Piccadilly, giving the girls wrong ideas
Dashing along just as bold as brass,
Flashing me stick on each lamp post I pass
Winking me eye in a manner that made hundreds of women leave home
And the News of the World expects big things of me
Ee, I′m not safe to be out alone
Now I'm thinking of joining a
Nightclub, such wicked tales of them they tell
I′ll join some night club where the birds are
And I might join a goose-club as well
I know this gay life's telling on me, my end will be tragic and grim
My dad turned me out and won′t let
Me sleep on the same doorstep as him
I've spent twice the money of other young scamps
With fourpence in cash and three ha'pence in stamps
I go rolling around Piccadilly, making smoke come down me nose
Cheap cigarettes never touch my lips,
I only collect those fag ends with gold tips
When I′m out I look such a gay dog,
That a butcher once threw me a bone
And I′ve sent Scotland Yard nearly out of their minds
Ee, I'm not safe to be out alone