Son

Oh.....grate - reeeeeeely grate. Said Rick. Back row legends, sharp as knives, Teachers trembling at our lives, Quips delivered with a grin, Every poor sod - trapped in our din. Rick Mayall screaming in the glow, With Eddie Hitler losing it, stealing the show, We studied their chaos, rehearsed their art — You, the wildest spark in my heart. And we thought we were untouchable, Too clever for anyone, unstoppable… Oh Son! Hair like fire, handbag flying, Pouring pints for fools while sober and defying, Two daughters, two worlds, and you make it run, Yeah, you’re crazy, brilliant — my Son! Oh Son! Pubs and pints, a tee-total queen, Running the room like a machine, Handbag like a drumstick, tapping the beat, Dancing through chaos with unstoppable feet. You've got one girl steady, finally working it straight, One girl shining, dancing with fate, And you, Son, holding it all, Never missing a beat, never letting them fall. From mischief and mayhem we came, Still sharp, still dangerous — always the same… Oh Son! Hair like fire, handbag flying, Pouring pints for fools while sober and defying, Two daughters, two worlds, and you make it run, Yeah, you’re crazy, brilliant — my Son! Oh Son! Crazy bastard antics, with "Bottom" on the screen, We were anarchists, ruthless and mean, Schoolyard legends, laughter our crown, Now you’re the queen, never backing down. Handbag swinging, hair insane, Still that girl with the dangerous brain, And I’m shouting, cheering, raising my gun — Oi, you magnificent bastard — your still my Son! Oh Son! Hair like fire, handbag flying, Pouring pints for fools while sober and defying, Two daughters, two worlds, and you make it run, Yeah, you’re crazy, brilliant — my Son! Oh Son! Yeah, you’re crazy, brilliant — my Son!