Dirt under my fingernails,
Walking round in tatty clothes,
No money in my wallet,
But everybody knows,
Barely affording bus fare,
To get from A to B,
People walking past,
Looking down their noses at me,
My hair shiny with grease,
And a hole in my left shoe,
Trying to make a name for myself,
But not knowing what to do,
Shopping for Tesco’s reduced,
As every little helps,
Whilst the fat-cats shop at Waitrose,
For their smoked salmon and their kelp,
Oh how it would be nice,
Oh how it would be grand,
To have money and power,
In the palm of a poor man’s hand.