It’s nice to look clean
But that could be obscene And not heard
of, it’s not a must
To stroke a car’s bonnet and rub up its bumpers
Is bordering on lust
Chorus
His roving eye, looks at wings not her thigh
The mind of a wild rover
The grip of a tyre
The look of love
He’s a Vauxhall Casa Nova
Oh they’re pretty and slick
And quicker than us
And many of them are fun, and
remember to care for them
What’eer you do
‘Coz a car is just like a woman
They need caressing and steering and warming up
Before they can perform
They get up to speed quicker
And they’re lots more fun
The more recently they were born
Chorus
His roving eye, looks wings not her thigh
The mind of a wild rover
The grip of a tyre
The look of love
That Vauxhall Casa Nova
His thoughts are much Corsa
His ideas are crude
He plays pocket snooker
With his balls and his cue
He’s not lusting for girls though
He sees their appeals
He’s not moved by their legs
Coz his fantasies all have wheels
Chorus
His roving eye, looks wings not her thigh
The mind of a wild rover
The grip of a tyre
The look of love
That Vauxhall Casa Nova
His roving eye, looks wings not her thigh
The mind of a wild rover
The grip of a tyre
The look of love
That Vauxhall Casa Nova
Oh cars are sexy, of that there’s no doubt
They have curves and backsides and fronts
We love them, and want them
And we’d sleep with them too, if only they had c#*%ts
--
Written and performed by Gareth Jones
