Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Mott the Hoople
Mott the Hoople
Performer
Overend Watts
Overend Watts
Bass Guitar
Ian Hunter
Ian Hunter
Vocals
Morgan Fisher
Morgan Fisher
Piano
Dale Griffin
Dale Griffin
Drums
Sue & Sunny
Sue & Sunny
Background Vocals
Barry St. John
Barry St. John
Background Vocals
Lynsey De Paul
Lynsey De Paul
Background Vocals
Ariel Bender
Ariel Bender
Guitar
Graham Preskett
Graham Preskett
Violin
Mike Horovitz
Mike Horovitz
Cello
Andy McKay
Andy McKay
Saxophone
Howie Casey
Howie Casey
Tenor Saxophone
Mick Ralphs
Mick Ralphs
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ian Hunter
Ian Hunter
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mike Dunne
Mike Dunne
Engineer
Overend Watts
Overend Watts
Producer
Paul Hardiman
Paul Hardiman
Engineer
Bill Price
Bill Price
Engineer
Ian Hunter
Ian Hunter
Producer
Sean Milligan
Sean Milligan
Engineer
Gary Edwards
Gary Edwards
Engineer
Peter Swettenham
Peter Swettenham
Engineer
Dale Griffin
Dale Griffin
Producer

Lyrics

SHUT UP It's clean the chimneys kids, and it's 1974 Shake a fist, make Oliver Twist There's no way you ain't poor Work the mine, work the factory line Watch the news, get the blues, blow a fuse Number One ain't gettin' it done And Number Two always got to lose Pearl 'atta girl, high school hooker Money funny honey, cook book looker Roy atta' boy, silk suit slicker Easy fee degree, cute boot licker Now I'll tell you something It seems like the rich dudes live in the sun And if Eton be a democracy - well I'm gonna get me some They got no chins and they always win Piece of glass hides the class from the mass Uni-own Jack is starting to crack The greed breed's killin' off the grass Come on, own up! - you're blown-up, you're shown-up Amatuers - amateurs - bullshit calamitors Pearl 'atta girl, high school hooker Money funny honey, cook book looker Roy atta' boy, silk suit slicker Easy fee degree, cute boot licker Thought you said, you'd make us into a star You just jive, you connived with our lives You're a scar, a disgrace, such a waste, filthy taste - lost your case Hi Number Ten, how's things goin'? Times are a-changin', winds are blowin' Big white chief, false teeth showin' I'm sittin' here growin, I'm sittin' here knowin' You're on the lamm, can't control it You're just a sham, you mink stole it Roy atta' boy, silk suit slicker Easy fee degree, cute boot licker Pearl 'atta girl, high school hooker Money funny honey, cook book looker
Writer(s): Ian Hunter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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