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Ian Dury & The Blockheads - Sweet gene vincent
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Skinny white sailor, the chances were slender
The beauties were brief
Shall I mourn your decline with some Thunderbird wine 
And a black handkerchief?
I miss your sad Virginia whisper
I miss the voice that called my heart

Sweet Gene Vincent
Young, and old, and gone
Sweet Gene Vincent

Who, who, who slapped John?

White face, black shirt
White socks, black shoes
Black hair, white strat
Bled white, died black

Sweet Gene Vincent
Let the blue caps roll tonight
At the Sock Hop Ball in the Union Hall
The bop is their delight

Here come duck-tail Danny dragging uncanny Annie
She's the one with the flying feet
You can break the peace, daddy sickle grease 
The beat is reet complete

And the jump-back honey in the dungarees
Tight sweater and a pony-tail
Will you guess her age when she comes back-stage
The hoodlums bite their nails

Black gloves, white frost
Black crêpe, white lead
White sheet, black knight
Jet black, dead white

Sweet Gene Vincent
There's one in every town
And the devil drives till the hearse arrives
You lay the pistol down

Sweet Gene Vincent
With nowhere left to hide
With lazy skin and ash-tray eyes
And perforated pride

So farewell, mademoiselle, knicker-bocker hotel
Goodbye to money owed
When your leg still hurts and you need more shirts
But you got to get back on the road