Lyrics The Style Council

The Style Council

Life At A Top Peoples Health Farm

Dad's gone down the dog track, Engels' laying cables

Brother's with his student friends plotting in the stables

They're preparing for power and how to win

I'm covered in Solaire and preparing to swim

"Old iron, old iron"

I heard the bobby shout

As he brought his friendly truncheon down

With a God Almighty clout

Mother's playing bingo, she's hoping for a big win

She buys the daily papers to see how 10 percent live

My cousin's greatest wish is to one day buy a farm

And turn it into a health club with top people charm

And any evening, any day

I'm singing to myself

I'll pack up all my clothes and dough

And piss off somewhere else

My ol' man was a dust person until he got the shove

Now the iron heel he talked about is backed by the iron glove

Brother's bought new glasses, shaped like Leon Trotsky's

They look very nice on the mantle piece next to the Royal Family

I'm laying back with the radio on in time to hear the Archer's

An everyday tale of country folk mixed up in prostitution, hey

Like all good stories with a happy end, which I'll now give to you

Our cousin's wish was granted and so his dreams came true

His gas shares doubled, his telecoms soared

Till he had enough money to chair his own board

Thank you Margaret Thatcher

May you never come to harm

He now serves cocktails and lettuce

At Top Peoples Health Club Farm, hey