(Mark Hankins/Chris Bradford)



Poor boy, up West, and the action wasn't going my way

Rich girl, best dressed, lookin' like she come out to play

I stood back, you swept passed, I decided that I'd give it a shot

I stepped in, I moved fast, I thought I'd give it everything that I'd got



We take tea at the Ritz, I take you down to the docks

You can rely on me to lower the tone

You call me your bit of rough, I call you my bit of stuff

You ain't brass, you're a touch of class



I like a pint, you like your bubbles

We have a whip round when you order your drink

You're in Who's Who, I'm whose in trouble

You're upper class and I'm the missing link



You got a bun(?) in your mouth and too much time on your hands

I got an accent, you can cut with a knife

Your dad's a bit of a snob but mine's a terminal slob

You ain't brass, you're a touch of class



We go dutch, it ain't much

I knew a classy girl like you wouldn't mind

A bit rough, a bit tough, a bit of low life knocks that perfect punch



- Guitar Solo -



You got a race horse at home, you keep him down on the farm

I buy the Sporting Life to studying the odds

I got a feel for the streets, you got your country retreat

You ain't brass, you're a touch of class

You ain't brass, you're a touch of class

You ain't brass

Huh, you're a touch of class