Son of the Working Class
I am a son of the working class
But a penny to my name
I am going back to Derby, lass
Where all the folks are all the same


Your father says I was born low
And I could never afford your hand
But with all the trials in this cruel old life
There’s promise in the promised land


I got dirt in me nails and in me teeth
But nowt in me pockets or in me cup
It’s a dark road I’m a'going back down
Perhaps I’ll never come back up


It’s fare thee well to you my love
I am returning from where I came
So forget you ever knew me, love
I won’t be coming back again