Last Of The English Roses — Peter Doherty

My you did look dapper in your mother's Old green scarf With your famous Auntie Arthur’s trousers on You were slapped by that slapper And how we all laughed But you laughed the loudest In ‘93...you could charm the bees knees of the bees

“Cheeky” you’d say and we all fell around Rolling ’round the playground

“Saucy” you’d say and we all fell about Rolling ’round the playground

Into ‘94 We all sang Skipping and dancing hand in hand Yeah with all the boys together And all the girls together

She’s the last of the English roses She’s the last of the English roses

(I wish to be so whirl awake again) She knows her Rodneys from her Stanleys And her Kappas from her Reeboks And her tit from her tat And her Winstons from her Enochs It’s fine and take what I Coming out, coming alive

Round the Snooker table You dance the Frutti-Tutti

She almost spilled her lager Toasting girls of great beauty

But the closing moved by Coming of age, coming alive All the boys together And all the girls together

She’s the last of the English roses She’s the last of the English roses Yeah she’s the last of the English roses She’s the last of, last of the English English roses

Ah sometimes you can’t change There’ll be no place Ce soir, disons chez moi Enfin je compte de toi Je te drague la rose mystique Tu l’arroses mystique? Ha, vas-y C’est mon monde de soleil