The old rocker wore his hair too long, wore his trouser cuffs too tight.

Unfashionable to the end - drank his ale too light.
Deathґs head belt buckle - yesterdayґs dreams -
The transport cafґ prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams, in his post-war baby-gloom

Now heґs too old to rockґnґroll but heґs too young to die
yes heґs too old ... etc.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs and prays that he always
But heґs the last of the blue blood greaser boys
And all his mates are doinґ time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line
And some of them own little sports cars and meet at their tennis club
For drinks on a Sunday - work on Monday
Theyґve thrown away their blue suede shoes

Now theyґre too old to rockґnґroll but theyґre to young to die
Yes theyґre too old ... etc.

So the old rocker gets out his bike to make a ton before he takes his
Upon the A1 by Scotch Corner just like it used to be.
And as he flies tears in his eyes -
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
As he hits the trunk road doing around 120
With no room left to brake

And he was too old to rockґnґroll
And he was too young to die
Correct  |  Mail  |  Print  |  Vote

Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll Lyrics