Paul Heaton + Jacqui Abbott
It Ain’t Yours Anymore
[Intro]
Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh
Ah ah, ah ah, ah ah ah
[Verse 1]
Would you call Epsom races, with hordes of white faces
Racist, or chavvy, or worse?
And who calls a member of parliament caught
By Hampstead Heath police perverse?
Would you Royal Ascot a meatmarket?
Like you do the places we go?
'Cause Henley Regatta, it don't really matter
The yacht you got but who you know
[Chorus]
It's always Oxford versus Cambridge
A boat race, but much, much more
Try turning up at Putney Bridge
And soon you'll get to know the score
You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham
But your feet won't touch the floor
You sing, 'This City is Yours' (or I)
Afraid it ain't yours anymore
[Intro]
Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh
Ah ah, ah ah, ah ah ah
[Verse 2]
You call the folk beneath plastic, fake, or cheap
Apart from particular class
Their vocal chords ruined by yelling, 'Whose streets?'
But happy kissing honourable ass
Whenever we go clubbing in a short dress
You're the first to label and think
Why do fools fall out of cabs
And who let the lower class drink?
[Chorus]
It's always Oxford versus Cambridge
A boat race, but much, much more
Try turning up at Putney Bridge
And soon you'll get to know the score
You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham
But your feet won't touch the floor
You sing, 'This City is Yours' (or I)
Afraid it ain't yours anymore
[Bridge]
I've seen West Ham and Orient, seen Millwall, QPR
Sing 'This City Is Ours' as they are fuck-munched at the bar
You sing 'This City is Yours', never will be, never was
And any claim you have to it ain't serious because
City's only yours to claim when your daughter's crossing street
And neither roving eye or predator nor whistle does she meet
[Chorus]
It's always Oxford versus Cambridge
A boat race, but much, much more
Try turning up at Putney Bridge
And soon you'll get to know the score
You're Chelsea, you're Palace, you're Fulham
But your feet won't touch the floor
You sing, 'This City is Yours' (or I)
Afraid it ain't yours anymore