Rolling Around Piccadilly

I'm such a hot-headed young scoundrel
I might be an underdone state
My father you know was a gardener
So I've turned out a bit of a rate
I know I'm too reckless and daring
But youth wants its fling, you're aware
I once told that to some girl's husband
And he flung me down three flights of stairs
I'm so fast I'll get into trouble no doubt
I terrify London each time I go out

When I'm rolling around Piccadilly
Giving the girls wrong ideas
Dashing along just as bold as brass
Slashing my stick on each lamppost I pass
Winking my eye in a manner
That's made hundreds of women leave home
And the News of the World expects big things of me
I'm not safe to be out alone

Now I'm thinking of joining a night club
Such wicked tales of them they tell
I'll join some night club where the birds are
And I might join a goose club as well
I know this gay life's telling on me
My end will be tragic and grim
My dad's turned me out and won't let me
Sleep on the same doorstep as him
I spend twice the money of other young scamps
With fourpence in cash and three ha'pence in stamps

I go rolling around Piccadilly
Making smoke come down my nose
Cheap cigarettes never touch my lips
I only collect those fag ends with gold tips
When I'm out I look such a gay dog
That a butcher once threw me a bone
And I've sent Scotland Yard nearly out of their minds
I'm not safe to be out alone