i was a post war baby in a small scots town i was three years old when we moved down south hard times written in my mother s looks with her widow s pension and her ration books aneurin bevan took the miners cause to the house of commons in his coal dust voice we were locked up safe and warm from the snow with life with the lyons on the radio and churchill said to louis mountbatten i just can t stand to see you today how could you have gone and given india away mountbatten just frowned said what can i say some of these things slip through your hands and there s no good talking or making plans but churchill he just flapped his wings said i don t really care to discuss these things but oh every time i look at you i feel so low i don t know what to do well every day just seems to bring bad news leaves me here with the post world war two blues 1959 was a very strange time a bad year for labour and a good year for wine uncle ike was our american pal and nobody talked about the suez canal i can still remember the last time i cried the day that buddy holly died i never met him so it may seem strange don t some people just affect you that way and all in all it was good there even seemed to be an optimistic mood while tw3 sat and laughed at it all till someone began to see the cracks in the walls and one day macmillan was coming downstairs a voice in the dark caught him unawares it was christine keeler blowing him a kiss he said i never believed it could happen like this but oh every time i look at you i feel so low i don t know what to do well every day just seems to bring bad news leaves me here with the post world war two blues i came up to london when i was nineteen with a corduroy jacket and a head full of dreams in coffee bars i spent my nights reading allen ginsberg talking civil rights the day robert kennedy got shot down the world was wearing a deeper frown and though i knew that we d lost a friend i always believed we would win in the end cause music was the scenery jimi hendrix played loud and free sergeant pepper was real to me songs and poems were all you needed which way did the sixties go now ramona s in desolation row and where i m going i hardly know it surely wasn t like this before but oh every time i look around i feel so low my head seems underground well every day just seems to bring bad news leaves me here with the post world war two blues oh every time i look at you i feel so low i don t know what to do well every day just seems to bring bad news leaves me here with the post world war two blues