Trevor was a skinhead he was sitting at the bar,
Sipping at his pint of beer and listening to ska.
Well he loves his Punk! He loves his Oi! Trevor is our boy,
And as the firm go marching in he shouts out Oi! Oi! Oi!
At the age of thirty seven he'll be a skinhead till he dies.
Boots and braces, West Ham shirt he's shouting battle cries.
Yeah Trevor loves his scene and Trevor knows his roots.
A working man that needs a drink that skinhead knows the truth.
Our mate Trevor does the stomp, with his boots and braces on.
Propping up the bar, Trevor knows the score.
Out for a laugh not out for a fight, he'll be having it tonight.
Our mate Trevor, this goes out to you our song.
Fucking great scene's what we've got with every punk and skin.
The pigs who stop us in the streets don't understand a thing,
Because this movement is so positive between us there's no hate.
If everyone could be like Trev this world would be a better place