I remember those grey flannel trousers,
short pants with a button-up fly;
I remember grey shirts (and girls’ blouses)
and a permanent knot in my tie.

My mother bought grey flannel trousers
at a second-hand place in the town,
where folk from those grey terraced houses
bought kecks for a measly half-crown. ^{[1], [2]}

Only in fullness of time could
technology make us quite hip,
when every new pairing of pants would
have buttons replaced by a zip.

Despite all our gripes and our grouses,
this fashion passed some of us by,
for those who had second-hand trousers
still had a button-up fly.

Now those without lamb do with mutton  ̶
my friends all had pants with a zip,
while I had to fumble a button,
my better-off mates let it rip.

I remember when Dad got his job back,
I remember the glorious trip,
I remember that wonderful gob-smack, ^[3]
when Mum bought me pants with a zip.

Notes:

^[1]     Oh the prejudice language arouses
for my generation and sex,
of course we would never say trousers,
we only wore pants or wore kecks.

^[2] Half a crown was ⅛ of a pound in the old British currency.

^[3] Gob-smack is British slang for a big surprise.