I'm OK, Jack Blues
I was waiting on the station for the second class,
Got the point of a brolly up the Khyber Pass,
Some goon in a tea cosy 'at
Had sighted the 8.15
Started off a bayonet charge
Without even an "excuse me, old bean."
So scrum down or get trampled under sixteen hundred pairs of shiny shoes
All paying their dues
To the I'm Ok, Jack Blues
Now the city throws its voices to stockbrokers' dummies
Who ride the conversation train and talk about Egyptian mummies
"You could be an even bigger rat" that's what the posters say
Just laugh a little louder at the bosses jokes and yo'll be well on your way
And every time you say "I say, it's my right of way"
You stick your head through the noose
Of those I'm Ok, Jack Blues.
Now in your Sunday paper there's a magazine
With a middle page spread of the majesty of the Queen,
She's the head of the nation, we're all down on our knees,
No real cause for celebration anyway,
And as the Englishmen in their castles pour scorn and abuse
On society's refuse, it's those I'm Ok, Jack Blues.
Well, down the local boozer trots laughing Fred,
With a great big beer gut in his head,
You can hear him a mile away, laying down the law,
You'll never wipe that smile off his face that tells you
That he knows it all
Sandpaper on the eardrums as he gives out his views
On who to accuse, it's the I'm OK, Jack Blues
So the tragi-comic office clones all go home to roost,
But the postures won't melt like the butter on the toast,
If you lost all your law books, what would come to pass?
Like Coco the Clown with his trousers down,
You'd be such a farce,
So fester in front of your TV screen as it spews
Out the six o' clock news, It's those I'm Ok, Jack Blues...
It's those I'm Ok. Jack Blues, those I'm OK, Jack Blues.