Lyrics
Poor boy, up west, and the action wasnt going my way
Rich girl, best dressed, lookin like she come out to play
I stood back, you swept passed, I decided that Id give it a shot
I stepped in, I moved fast, I thought Id give it everything that Id got
We take tea at the ritz, I take you down to the docks
You can rely on me to lower the tone
You call me your bit of rough, I call you my bit of stuff
You aint brass, youre a touch of class
I like a pint, you like your bubbles
We have a whip round when you order your drink
Youre in whos who, Im whose in trouble
Youre upper class and Im the missing link
You got a bun (?) in your mouth and too much time on your hands
I got an accent, you can cut with a knife
Your dads a bit of a snob but mines a terminal slob
You aint brass, youre a touch of class
We go dutch, it aint much
I knew a classy girl like you wouldnt mind
A bit rough, a bit tough, a bit of low life knocks that perfect punch
— guitar solo —
You got a race horse at home, you keep him down on the farm
I buy the sporting life to studying the odds
I got a feel for the streets, you got your country retreat
You aint brass, youre a touch of class
You aint brass, youre a touch of class
You aint brass
Huh, youre a touch of class