| Song | Second-Hand Car Spiv |
| Artist | The Kinks |
| Album | Preservation Act 2 |
| Sung by spiv, flash & floosies | |
| Spiv:i was born a slum gutter infantile, | |
| Brute-force educated, delinquent juvenile. | |
| I am a product of mass produced factory fodder, | |
| Streets full of tenement blocks, rat infested filth and squalor. | |
| I left school, went straight on the dole | |
| And unemployment's no enjoyment, | |
| Welfare state owned my mind and my body and my soul. | |
| So i worked my way up to be a second-hand car spiv, | |
| But don't judge me harshly because i'm just a slum kid. | |
| I built up my business with a quick wit and fist, | |
| So don't double-cross me or my hoods will dissect you | |
| With their black jacks and shiv. | |
| Slum kids never get a break, they've got to fight their way up. | |
| Wheel and deal, beg and steal, | |
| Sweat blood to earn a buck. | |
| I didn't want to work on the factory floor, | |
| I wasn't content, i wanted more | |
| Than to be a slave of a lathe, | |
| Work all day and go home bored. | |
| So a second- hand car spiv was what i became. | |
| I built an empire because i used my brains. | |
| Chorus: he was a second-hand car spiv up from the slums, | |
| So don't judge him harshly because he's just a slum kid. | |
| Then he moved into property, stocks and shares, | |
| Spiv: and into high finance and you've got to agree | |
| That running a multi-million corporation | |
| Sure beats selling cars second-hand. | |
| Chorus: once he sold old worn out heaps to the punters on the street, | |
| Spiv: now i'm in control of the country as a whole, | |
| And the world is at my feet. | |
| Chorus: the world is at his feet. | |
| Spiv: power, power, i've got power oozing out of me, | |
| And when you think of all the things i've done | |
| It says a lot for one | |
| Who worked his way up from the streets. | |
| Yes i'm a second-hand car spiv. | |
| Do a deal, buy and sell, | |
| It's my trade, i know it well. | |
| Make a sale, ring the bell | |
| And let the suckers go to hell. | |
| Bank the profits, count the change | |
| Another sucker comes your way. | |
| Life is a crooked game, | |
| And slum kids never change. |
| Sung by spiv, flash floosies | |
| Spiv: i was born a slum gutter infantile, | |
| Bruteforce educated, delinquent juvenile. | |
| I am a product of mass produced factory fodder, | |
| Streets full of tenement blocks, rat infested filth and squalor. | |
| I left school, went straight on the dole | |
| And unemployment' s no enjoyment, | |
| Welfare state owned my mind and my body and my soul. | |
| So i worked my way up to be a secondhand car spiv, | |
| But don' t judge me harshly because i' m just a slum kid. | |
| I built up my business with a quick wit and fist, | |
| So don' t doublecross me or my hoods will dissect you | |
| With their black jacks and shiv. | |
| Slum kids never get a break, they' ve got to fight their way up. | |
| Wheel and deal, beg and steal, | |
| Sweat blood to earn a buck. | |
| I didn' t want to work on the factory floor, | |
| I wasn' t content, i wanted more | |
| Than to be a slave of a lathe, | |
| Work all day and go home bored. | |
| So a second hand car spiv was what i became. | |
| I built an empire because i used my brains. | |
| Chorus: he was a secondhand car spiv up from the slums, | |
| So don' t judge him harshly because he' s just a slum kid. | |
| Then he moved into property, stocks and shares, | |
| Spiv: and into high finance and you' ve got to agree | |
| That running a multimillion corporation | |
| Sure beats selling cars secondhand. | |
| Chorus: once he sold old worn out heaps to the punters on the street, | |
| Spiv: now i' m in control of the country as a whole, | |
| And the world is at my feet. | |
| Chorus: the world is at his feet. | |
| Spiv: power, power, i' ve got power oozing out of me, | |
| And when you think of all the things i' ve done | |
| It says a lot for one | |
| Who worked his way up from the streets. | |
| Yes i' m a secondhand car spiv. | |
| Do a deal, buy and sell, | |
| It' s my trade, i know it well. | |
| Make a sale, ring the bell | |
| And let the suckers go to hell. | |
| Bank the profits, count the change | |
| Another sucker comes your way. | |
| Life is a crooked game, | |
| And slum kids never change. |