Post World War Two Blues

I was a post-war baby in a small Scots town

I was three years old when we moved down south

Hard times written in my mother's looks

With her widow's pension and her ration books

Aneurin Bevan took the miners' cause

The the House of Commons in his coal dust voice

We were locked up safe and warm from the snow

With "Life with the Lyons" on the radio

And Churchill said to Louis Mountbatten

"I just can't stand to see you today

How could you have gone and given India away?"

Mountbatten just frowned, said "What can I say?

Some of these things slip through your hands

And there's no good talking or making plans"

But Churchill he just flapped his wings

Said "I don't really care to discuss these things, but

Oh, every time I look at you

I feel so low I don't know what to do

Well every day just seems to bring bad news

Leaves me here with the Post World War Two Blues"

 

1959 was a very strange time

A bad year for Labour and a good year for wine

Uncle Ike was our American pal

And nobody talked about the Suez Canal

I can still remember the last time I cried

The day that Buddy Holly died

I never met him, so it may seem strange

Don't some people just affect you that way

And all in all it was good

The even seemed to be in an optimistic mood

While TW3 sat and laughed at it all

Till some began to see the cracks in the walls

And one day Macmillan was coming downstairs

A voice in the dark caught him unawares

It was Christine Keeler blowing him a kiss

He said "I never believed it could happen like this

But oh, every time I look at you

I feel so low I don't know what to do

Well every day just seems to bring bad news

Leaves me here with the post World War Two Blues"

 

I came up to London when I was nineteen

With a corduroy jacket and a head full of dreams

In coffee bars I spent my nights

Reading Allen Ginsberg, talking civil rights

The day Robert Kennedy got shot down

The world was wearing a deeper frown

And though I knew that we'd lost a friend

I always believed we would win in the end

'Cause music was the scenery

Jimi Hendrix played loud and free

Sergeant Pepper was real to me

Songs and poems were all you needed

Which way did the sixties go?

Now Ramona's in Desolation Row

And where I'm going I hardly know

It surely wasn't like this before but

Oh, every time I look around

I feel so low my head seems underground

Well every day just seems to bring bad news

Leaves me here with the Post World War Two Blues

 

Oh, every time I look at you

I feel so low I don't know what to do

Well every day just seems to bring bad news

Leaves me here with the post World War Two Blues

Writer(s): Alistair Ian Stewart Copyright: Gwyneth Music Ltd.

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