Letras
Will you still love me, will you still hug me when I'm eighty-four?
When I've been working all my life and I'm still bloody poor?
Dust in my lungs, a broken back, still can't retire, it hurts
Well I'm all for worker's rights and
That, as long as I don't have to work
So hats off to the schemers, the scroungers, the rats
To the ones who sleep on mattresses
On the floor, clutching baseball bats
To the beggars and the cheaters and the kings who rise and loom
To the scoundrels, the misfits, the parasites, this one's for you
Maybe I'll never shoot a rabbit, perhaps I'll never drink champagne
But that's alright with me, man, I prefer cider anyway
And I'm happy doing nothing, they tell me it's all a waste
But I ain't never seen no freebie suit with a smile on his face
So hats off to the schemers, the scroungers, the rats
To the ones who sleep on mattresses
On the floor, clutching baseball bats
To the beggars and the cheaters and the kings who rise and loom
To the scoundrels, the misfits, the parasites, this one's for you
A nine to five, five days a week, mate, it's bottom of my list
Well I just couldn't live with myself
Knowing there was something that I missed
So don't go telling me, "Take it seriously," yeah believe me I do
Life's for living, not for working, and I've got better things to do
So hats off to the schemers, the scroungers, the rats
To the ones who sleep on mattresses
On the floor, clutching baseball bats
To the beggars and the cheaters and the kings who rise and loom
To the scoundrels, the misfits, the parasites, this one's for you