The old rocker wore his hair too long Wore his trouser cuffs too tight Unfashionable to the end Drank his ale too light Death's head belt buckle, yesterday's dreams The transport caf', prophet of doom Ringing no change in his double- sewn seams In his post- war- babe gloom Now he's too old to rock and roll But he's too young to die Yes he's too old to rock and roll But he's too young to die