My old man was the Hotpoint Man and he drove around in a big white van
My old man was the Hotpoint Man and he drove around in a big white van

My washer's broke and my fridge is warm
My dryer's cold and my clothes are torn
My freezers thawed so I have a plan
I'd better call out the Hotpoint man

F E G 3 0 0 D 
I can still remember, me
An old Ford Thames or a transit van
That's what he drove, the Hotpoint man

Every summer we empty the tools and spares
Fill up the van for our holidays
We'd head of to Pontin's with the gang
My old man and his Hotpoint van

Every couple of years off he'd set
Way down south and we'd all have a bet 
Just what sort of brand new van
Would they give to me dad, the Hotpoint man

One day I remember standing at the door
Waiting for the return of my dad once more
Round the corner came my old man
In a black and yellow Hotpoint van

Later on when he left the job
He found they gave him a couple of bob
Without his van he couldn't go far 
So he bought himself a brand new car