Lyrics:

The Old Rocker Wore His Hair Too Long, Wore His Trouser Cuffs Too Tight.

unfashionable To The End - Drank His Ale Too Light.
deathâ´s Head Belt Buckle - Yesterdayâ´s Dreams -
the Transport Cafâ´ Prophet Of Doom
ringing No Change In His Double-Sewn Seams, In His Post-War Baby-Gloom

chorus
now Heâ´s Too Old To Rockâ´nâ´roll But Heâ´s Too Young To Die
yes Heâ´s 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
will
but Heâ´s The Last Of The Blue Blood Greaser Boys
and All His Mates Are Doinâ´ 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
doâ´s
for Drinks On A Sunday - Work On Monday
theyâ´ve Thrown Away Their Blue Suede Shoes

chorus
now Theyâ´re Too Old To Rockâ´nâ´roll But Theyâ´re To Young To Die
yes Theyâ´re Too Old ... Etc.

so The Old Rocker Gets Out His Bike To Make A Ton Before He Takes His
leave
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

chorus
and He Was Too Old To Rockâ´nâ´roll
and He Was Too Young To Die