The Singing Loins

So Long, My Old China

You called me Old China
You played darts with nails
Had a trial for Millwall
After 14 brown ales

Drove a forty foot lorry
Proper sheeted and roped
Had me for a son
Is that what you hoped?

Your jacket don't fit me
So, give us a rest, mate
I can't follow your footsteps
They're too big, they're too straight

"Keep your eye on the ball, son"
"Don't snatch at the trigger"
A few words of wisdom
Like John Wayne, but bigger

You grew up at El Alemein
Not long out of school
You only cried once
You big, bloody fool

Your jacket don't fit me
So, give us a rest, mate
I can't follow your footsteps
They're too big, they're too straight

Then as you lay dying
Your face went to stone
You said "Jesus won't help you
We're all on our own."

You visit my dreams every night
And I wake up weeping
Chewing the fat until light
When I should be sleeping

I'm too small for your jacket
So, give us a rest, mate
I can't follow your footsteps
They're too big, they're too straight

So,
So long
So long
So long, my old china

So long
So long
So long, my old mate.