Roadie, Roll On

Shoot on up to Newcastle, weekend gigs
On a two night stopover, I'm living in digs
With greasy spoon breakfast and supper and tea
These syrup of figs'll be the death of me
I got my base man, drummer and my rusty (trusty?) old axe
So keep your motor running – gonna cut me some wax
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
And on and on
Monday morning – sees us steaming down the A1
At 4 in the morning, isn't show business fun
There's only one wiper working, trannies and bits
I'm taking in weather – really gave me the pits
Here comes another wagon, must be doing a ton
When I open my eyes, I hope the race'll be won
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on - and on and on
(D'ya hear me?)
Two number 1's and a couple of 3's
I'm down looking living the way that you see
I owe my mum a fortune, but she said it's alright
But can I get a haircut, ‘cos I do look a sight
Here comes some silly sucker working 9 till 5
Man do I know whether I'm dead or alive
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on
I say roll, roadie roll on and on and on