I was a post-war baby in a small Scots town
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I was three years old when we moved down south
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Hard times written in my mother's looks
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With her widow's pension and her ration books
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Aneurin Bevan took the miners' cause
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The the House of Commons in his coal dust voice
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We were locked up safe and warm from the snow
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With "Life with the Lyons" on the radio
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And Churchill said to Louis Mountbatten
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"I just can't stand to see you today
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How could you have gone and given India away?"
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Mountbatten just frowned, said "What can I say?
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Some of these things slip through your hands
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And there's no good talking or making plans"
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But Churchill he just flapped his wings
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Said "I don't really care to discuss these things, but
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Oh, every time I look at you
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I feel so low I don't know what to do
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Well every day just seems to bring bad news
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Leaves me here with the Post World War Two Blues"
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1959 was a very strange time
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A bad year for Labour and a good year for wine
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Uncle Ike was our American pal
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And nobody talked about the Suez Canal
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I can still remember the last time I cried
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The day that Buddy Holly died
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I never met him, so it may seem strange
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Don't some people just affect you that way
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And all in all it was good
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The even seemed to be in an optimistic mood
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While TW3 sat and laughed at it all
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Till some began to see the cracks in the walls
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And one day Macmillan was coming downstairs
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A voice in the dark caught him unawares
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It was Christine Keeler blowing him a kiss
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He said "I never believed it could happen like this
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But oh, every time I look at you
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I feel so low I don't know what to do
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Well every day just seems to bring bad news
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Leaves me here with the post World War Two Blues"
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I came up to London when I was nineteen
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With a corduroy jacket and a head full of dreams
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In coffee bars I spent my nights
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Reading Allen Ginsberg, talking civil rights
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The day Robert Kennedy got shot down
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The world was wearing a deeper frown
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And though I knew that we'd lost a friend
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I always believed we would win in the end
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'Cause music was the scenery
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Jimi Hendrix played loud and free
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Sergeant Pepper was real to me
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Songs and poems were all you needed
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Which way did the sixties go?
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Now Ramona's in Desolation Row
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And where I'm going I hardly know
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It surely wasn't like this before but
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Oh, every time I look around
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I feel so low my head seems underground
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Well every day just seems to bring bad news
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Leaves me here with the Post World War Two Blues
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Oh, every time I look at you
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I feel so low I don't know what to do
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Well every day just seems to bring bad news
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Leaves me here with the post World War Two Blues
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Post World War Two Blues
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Al Stewart |