Its thirty foot long and it stinks of piss, sores and
scabs all over it
Its rude, its wrinkled, its veins are blue,
Its the Thursday morning pension queue
Senile retards out for a drive, you're stuck behind a
Lada for miles
They drool, they dribble, they cough, they wheeze,
They make you queue for hours at Sainsbury's
Fuck off down the post office, if you're handicapped
Village idiot competition for mutants, geeks and spacks
Hobbling, wobbling, doddering, slobbering, stammering,
staggering fools.
Dunces, dullards, demented dimwits, imbeciles, buffoons.
Shuffling halfwits interbred, simpletons with mis-shaped
heads, rotting fossils, decomposing,
Ninnies with no teeth.
Wronglybuilts, grinning, gurning, incontinents and
I used to be disgusting, now I'm just obscene
I lick the feet of lamp posts where dogs have recently
been
I loiter near the pet shop, I loiter with intent
I loiter near the hamsters, then I loiter in the gents
(We spy creeps and lechers behind our privet hedges)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)
(We prosecute and pester poofs and child molesters)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)
Some men's wee is orange, some men's wee is yellow
I collect it up in jam jars and hide it under my pillow
Sometimes we have wee parties, my friend Nigel likes to
boil it
Jason has a spot of milk, I like it straight from the
toilet
(We've watched you being offensive behind our picket
fences)
(Come on, chant a shanty for the village vigilante)
(Perverts all despise us, we're the fairy liquidisers)
My name is Uncle Knobby, I hang around primary schools
Underneath my raincoat, I'm always totally nude
I show my navel fluff collection to lots of fully-clothed
I get a full erection, and have to rush to the gents
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can't we please go home?
Why do you hide in the bushes? What have you done with
our clothes?
I introduce my penis to hamsters, gerbils and mice
I like to read Fiesta, and peek at the reader's wives
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, where's our special treat?
Why do you keep taking pictures and sniffing our bicycle
seats?
I grummidge in my portfolio, which is full of Tampax ads
I look up my own bottom with mirrors from ladies'
handbags
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can't we please go home?
We've never seen any dildos, we don't want to wear
pantyhose
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, Why have you smeared us with cake?
We don't like standing in custard, and we don't want to
My name is Uncle Knobby, I hang around primary schools
Underneath my raincoat, I'm always totally nude
I show my navel fluff collection to lots of fully-clothed
I get a full erection, and have to rush to the gents
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can't we please go home?
Why do you hide in the bushes? What have you done with
our clothes?
I introduce my penis to hamsters, gerbils and mice
I like to read Fiesta, and peek at the reader's wives
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, where's our special treat?
Why do you keep taking pictures and sniffing our bicycle
seats?
I grummidge in my portfolio, which is full of Tampax ads
I look up my own bottom with mirrors from ladies'
handbags
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, can't we please go home?
We've never seen any dildos, we don't want to wear
pantyhose
Ooh! Uncle Knobby, Why have you smeared us with cake?
We don't like standing in custard, and we don't want to
Just take a look over there,
Is that one fit with the long dark hair?
Well she's got to be a mucky tart,
Her mate looks like a madman's horse.
Can I have the fit one?
Oh, don't be boring,
Me knob's gone deaf, it's one foot long, I've had it up since Monday.
Thank God for ugly women, all the boilers bags and trolls,
Just so they could get a shag they invented alcohol.
Thank God for ugly women, all the boilers bags and trolls,
Just so they could get a shag they invented alcohol.
She had a face a pig wouldn't lick,
Complextion like a bag of sick.
And underneath her hanging gut,
An alsation with it's windpipe cut.
Real fish in her fishnets, all squashed in a paste,
Two inch thick soles and between her legs a very smelly place.
Thank God for ugly women, all the boilers bags and trolls,
Just so they could get a shag they invented alcohol.
Stuck our faces out the windows on the way to Leeds
Wagged our stumps together, we're not like the other
breeds
We'd lie in wait for postmen, I showed you how to spot
them
But I can't tell you that I love you when your nose is up
my bottom
We hung around the butcher's and grummidged in his ship
I ate too many fish heads and let you eat my sick
The tripe was ripe and mouldy, the sausages were rotten
But I can't tell you that I love you when my nose is up
your bottom
We ate country pancakes, chased rabbits in the fields
Barbara Woodhouse, Ronnie Barker, and Lassie on TV
I even let you lick my piss, or have you just forgotten?
But I can't tell you that I love you when your nose is up
He pulled up on a Yammy 750,
I got all wet, my buttocks started shifting
I gave him a wink, I said: "Buy us a drink?"
I got a double vodka and coke,
He said: "Come outside, we'll go for a ride."
I gave his leather trousers a stroke
Two stroke Eddie
I told him straight away I wanted porking
(Tell us about the size of his pole)
He only had an inch, and that was foreskin
(Sounds like he was hung like a vole)
The ugly twat finished in two seconds flat
He had a problem with his timing
The fat, spotty bum asked me if I'd come
He's not worth the crust off my gusset lining
Two-stroke Eddie
I couldn't give a toss about his size, dear
(You're a fucking lying slut)
Two-stroke Eddie didn't touch the sides, dear
(He didn't even have half a foot)
He just made a mess all over my dress,
I didn't even know he'd been in
Then he had the cheek to ask to see me next week
I wouldn't give him cheese off my quim
Sup up, lad, I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat
Than you've supped tonight.
Bonnington's or Willy's lads?
Willy's tastes like piss.
I've got ten pints down me neck the night,
He's blown some froth off his.
Now I've got to leave room for me chips,
So twenty pints is fine,
Hey you, you poof, you fucking cunt,
Get off that pint, it's mine.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's every Friday night.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's then we're outside for a fight.
You think you're one of the Macc Lads?
You look a bloody sight.
'Cos I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat,
Than you've supped tonight.
Peter.
And we'll all go down Limmoge's after closing time,
Hey you, you poof, you fucking cunt,
Get off that crack it's mine.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's every Friday night.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's then we're outside for a fight.
You think you're one of the Macc Lads?
You're too fucking tight.
'Cos I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat,
Than you've supped tonight.
'Cos I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat,
Flew out of Ringway, BOAC, spent a packet on duty-free
Got our passports and we had our shots, just hope its not
too fucking hot
Got dead pissed-up on the plane, couldn't wait to get to
Spain
The crumpet was so fit I nearly came
We all went down Torremolinos, I pulled this bird from
Pontefract
I got a big red ring round the base of my penis
It wasn't Boots 17, and that's a fact
She was just dirty, it was a Club 18-30
We went round nicking from tourist shops,
Stez Styx went battering greasy wops
Beater complained about the lousy beer
Chorley ate paella, he got diarrhoea
Knobby's looking at the tits, Barrel's eating egg and
chips
Don't drink the water, it'll give you the shits
We all went down Costa Blanca, Stez pulled this bird from
Prestatyn (press that in)
But he didn't pull it out, he's a fucking wanker,
Now half the kids in Wales look like him
Went down Discount Giant, and stood in the queue
Looked in the next trolley, like you do,
Just standing, thinking, about this and that. Standing
there, thinking-
There's low-fat this, reduced-fat that,
What the fuck do they do with all the fat?
And what do they do with the alcohol stuff-
The stuff they take out of the beer for poofs?
The lead out of petrol?
The fags with low tar?
What about the calories they've taken out of margarine,
Salad cream and Lean Cuisine, Heinz Baked Beans, and
mushy peas?
Do they sling them into binbags and send them to Bosnia?
The bulb in the bog went, during a dump.
I'm sat in the darkness, with crap on my rump.
Sitting, thinking, in the dark,
Just sitting, thinking- How does Stevie Wonder wipe his
arse?
When the first bit of bogroll leaves buttock cleft
I always inspect it, to see how much turd's left -
All those blind bastards are in the dark,
No wonder Blue Peter need sixty billion bottle tops,
Because, you know, it costs a lot to coax and train a
guide dog
Where's the fucking party?
Someone's in the kitchen eating pies and mucky tarts,
Bammy's in the bathroom and he's lighting up his farts.
Now Peter's supping bitter, he's getting really canned,
He locks himself in the bog and he's shagging Baggy Anne.
The Macc Lads are having a party, round at Mutley's place,
You'd better bring some ale my son or we'll smash you in the face.
Someone shouts "ale's run out, who's for tea or coffee?"
But Stez Styx pegs it down the road and breaks into to the offy.
And Charlotte's eating mushies, she's really off her box,
She's going to take her false teeth out and suck some scabby cocks.
The Macc Lads are having a party, round at Mutley's flat,
You'd better bring some ale my son or we'll kick your fucking twat.
The Macc Lads are having a party, round at Mutley's flat,
You'd better bring some ale my son or we'll smash your fucking twat.
When the Macc Lads have a party then they do it fucking right,
If we start it on a Monday then it ends on Sunday night.
You can come if your a Macc Lad,
You can fuck off if you're queer,
You can come if you're a fit crack,
But you've got to bring some beer.
Knutsford girls are fat and spotty, Buxton girls have got
big bottys
Nantwich girlies' tits are flabby. Prestbury girls have
got rich daddies
Paula or Lynn, they've all got a quim,
Maggie or Madge,
They've all got lips and tits and clits and slits and
pinkish bits and a pouting vadge
Wilmslow girls all like Chris Rea, Sandbach girls have
gonhorrea,
Poynton girls go out with Martins, Gawsworth girls just
can't stop farting
Tights or stockings, they all want a cock in
Barbara or Babs
They've all got lips and tits and clits and slits and
pinkish bits and pouting flaps
Give me any old bag, I'll fucking fuck it
Give me any old bag, even if they're fat
Give me any old bag, with a cunt like a bucket
They've all got lips and tits and clits and slits and
Ten pints of Boddies and a barley wine,
We've got to make the Bear's Head before closing time.
We're the Macc Lads, we were born in a pub,
We like us ale and we like us grub,
We're the Macc Lads and we ain't fuckin' puffs.
We're the Lads from Macc,
We want some crack,
We're the Lads from Macc, alright?
Now before we go out shaggin' the night,
We drive around insulting every bugger in sight,
Hre's and old bag, just the job,
Right lads, lets get ready wi' gob,
Stanly Ogden? He's a fuckin' slob.
We're the Lads from Macc,
We want some crack,
We're the Lads from Macc.
We're the Macc Lads, we're fuckin' rough,
We like us ale, we can't get enough,
We're the Macc Lads and we ain't fuckin' puffs.
We're the Lads from Macc,
We want some crack,
We're the Lads from Macc, alright?
Get your gob 'round me knob,
Get your teeth 'round me beef,
Get your lipsies 'round me titsies,
Get your smackers 'round me knackers,
Get your gums 'round me brums,
Talk to me pork,
Get your smackers round me knackers.
Alright my son?
We're the Lads from Macc,
We want some crack,
We're the Lads from Macc, alright?
(Repeat x2)
Beer 'n' Sex 'n' Chips 'n' Gravy
Clean me teeth, put on me best clobber,
Tonight's the night I'm going fer knob 'er,
Vaxhaull Vivas all covered in rust,
But you can't fuck yer bird on a 29 bus,
One, two, one two three four,
Beer 'n' sex 'n' chips 'n' gravy
It's all a Macc Lad wants,
Beer 'n' sex 'n' chips 'n' gravy,
Tasty bit of cunt.
So gerrup off the floor,
Finish yer chips, we're gonna go sup some more.
I pulled a punt down the fox 'n' grapes,
A game of darts an' a lot of beer,
I said "can you hold your liquor love?"
She said "yes I can, always by the ears."
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Tasty birrov cunt,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
It's all a Macc Lad wants.
I've told you once before,
Gerrup off the floor,
Finish yer chips, we're gonna go sup some more...
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy.
Treat yer women like toilets,
The're happy while you're abusing them,
But toilets don't follow yer 'round,
When you've finished using them
One two three four,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Beer and sex and chips and gravy,
Gerrit down yer necks.
Beer an' sex an' sex an' gravy..
He went to bed dead early, for holding hands with girlies
He tried to get dead thin, he worked out in a gym
That's gay
"My other car's a porsche" he wears boxer shorts
Got an earring in his ear, he takes it up the rear
That's gay
Forever smoking hemp, he wears deoderant
Dresses like a ponce, his hair is all bouffont
That's gay
Goes to the pub at ten, likes sleeping with men, ten
sugars in his tea,
Watches Dynasty, writes to Simon Bates, bought some
She came out of the bogs, she stank of damp dogs
With an Oxfam shop smell, her clothes were louder than
hell
Drowning out the jukebox
I avoided her stare by diving under a chair
But right next to my nose, a pair of stilettos
I didn't have a prayer
She shouts:
"Hey you, what you doing down there?
I were jutht tellin' the girlth about our affair-
How you took uth 'ome a week latht Thunday,
And made a meth before I got your knob out of your
undieth"
She's the tart with the heart, she's the bitch with the
lisp
Spreads the word and her legs, she's a gossip columnist
Look up in the 'phone book for the Northern part of
China
There's still one Chin that hasn't been hard-up on her
vagina
She was lying, of course. I made a bolt for the door,
But the loudmouth slut stuck out a foot, and put me
back on the floor
I crawled behind the plants to avoid her glance,
But before very long, the familiar pong - vaginal
deoderant
She shouts:
"Hey you, what you doing down there?
I were jutht tellin' your maytth about our affair
And if therth any chanth you could get thum medicathion
Pint after pint after pint after pint we sup,
Crack after crack after crack after crack we fuck,
There's a pink giving me the wink,
And she'll make me finger stink,
I think it's all this beer they make me drink.
Tab after tab after tab after tab we smoke,
Tart after tart after tart after tart we poke,
I'm getting intimate with twats,
Parting saddlebags,
I think it's all this crack they make me shag.
They make me shag.
Me belly's hanging lower,
Me knob drags along the floor,
Well, she wore big knickers,
And she worked on t' sewage farm,
I got me 'and down 'er jeans an'
I nearly lost half me arm.
But after ten pints,
Looked quite fit,
Couldn't wait to get me hands
On her flabby tits.
Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty,
So I said slap that and ride the ripples,
I've just got to get me gob
'Round her inverted nipples.
She had a massive arse
And sweatty breasts,
Thirty eight inch,
She were a mound of flesh.
Sweatty Betty, she eats a lot of pies,
Sweatty Betty, she's got enormous thighs,
Sweatty Betty, have you smelt her breath,
Sweatty Betty, she'll crush a man to death.
And I knew that she wanted me fer shag 'er,
So I stabbed 'er cunt with me mutton dagger,
I couldn't believe the spots on her bum,
She used to play for Wigan at the back of the scrum.
Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty.
'An I've seen real Maccicians gerroff 'ome
But you know me, I'll shag endless buer.
Sweatty Betty, she eats a lot of chips,
Sweatty Betty, she's got massive tits,
Sweatty Betty, she's got a huge vagina,
Sweatty Betty, you'd fit a bus inside 'er.
Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, she's so obscene,
Sweatty Betty, it doesn't matter to me.
Sweatty Betty, she's like a lump of lard,
Sweatty Betty, she makes me willy hard.
England's Glory
Shut up and listen,
I'm gonna tell thee a story,
About me trip down south,
To the crotch of England's glory.
Took some Dombies and a Bod can,
To make me fell at home,
I'm going down London,
Dig up paving stones.
Got to London half past six,
And I wished I'd never come,
'Cos there's puffs down 'ere
Drinkin' halves of larger,
Without notes from their mum's.
No gravy at the chippy,
And what's a savaloy?
Every pub were full of boring
Isling bottom boys.
We are all just simple lads,
Never asked for much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday night,
An' a wife at home to fuck.
If I live to be forty,
I'll never understand,
Why they're up 'till eleven,
To drink beer that's second-hand.
Dialling 0625 on the telephone,
I shouts "pull us a pint of bitter ale
The night I'm comin' home."
We are all just simple lads,
Never asked for much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday night,
And a wife at home to fuck.
Yeah, we are all just simple lads
Never asked for much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday night,
And a wife at home to fuck.
Come on lads and lasses will you finish up your glasses,
Let's go home.
Now you know the regulations I don't want an explanation,
Time to go.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
Twenty minutes past last orders, now you've all got homes to go to,
Tatty bye.
Now we've had your fucking money now then piss off home to mummy,
Let's go home.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
Well, I couldn't give a rat turd if it's raining cats and dogs,
Will you nick that fucking bastard and stop hiding in the bogs,
Fuck off home.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
Fuck off you twat, we want to stoppy back, stoppy back.
It was Saturday night, we were dressed for the kill,
I've got my rubbers, Stez wants one on the pill
'Come on lads, stop hanging around, get in the car and
we'll hit the fucking town.'
Beater pulled a rough one, but she had a lot up front,
Greasy hair, hadn't washed for weeks
She had flies buzzing round her melon
Saturday night, time for boozing and fighting
Saturday night, its fucking exciting
Saturday night, time to get the ale in
Saturday night, Bald Eagle's paying
Watch it Beater! Her boyfriend's here
Broken nose, cauliflower ear
That bastard weighs 500lb
Look at his hands, they're dragging on the ground
Saturday night, time for boozing and fighting
Saturday night, its fucking exciting
Saturday night, time to get plastered
Fat bastard squeezes into his car, seatbelt's too
small, but he's not going far.
Burns off into the countryside to a pub with real ale
and plenty of pies.
A dull thud gives the fatty a jolt, puts his weight on
the brakes,
Brings the car to a halt.
There's a poodle in the grass on the verge, laid on its
back, paws in the air.
And so he huffs and he puffs to get out of the car
Sweat on his head, bags round his arse
Picking up a boulder from the edge of the field,
He puts a quick end to the dog's misery
Big rock breaks the little dog's skull, fatty doesn't
stop 'til the head is a pulp
Kicks the carcass right under the weeds,
Huffs back to his car, he's late for his feed.
Pulls up outside the "Traveller's Rest", big plate of
chips and a large chicken breast.
Then a copper wanders into the snug, says he'd like a
quick word outside of the pub
And so he huffs and he puffs, trying to finish his
snack,
Tells the PC he's applied for his tax...
"We've had a call from Mrs Ball, who lives down the
lane,
She was out with her dogs, she was watching them play.
A motorist drove up so fast, it gave her a shock, he
ran Bonzo down,
He screeched to a halt. Got out of the car, was
overweight, and seemed out of breath,
He picked up a rock, and battered Trixie to death.
If it wasn't you, then tell the truth, explain if you
will,
She came from Biddulph, and she called me "duck"
I'd seen her picture in a dirty book,
Something secret made her give it up,
She wouldn't spill the beans
But something's the matter, coz my car seat smelled
She had the hardest pair of panties that I've ever felt
She must be wearing a chastity belt - I couldn't get in
her jeans.
She said: "Can you keep a secret?" and confided in me
"Don't go telling nobody!"
I said: "This bastard's going on the next LP!"
And I yelled at the top of my lungs...
She's got piles up her arse, piles up her bum, piles up
her fanny and a sore rectum
Piles up her arse, piles up her bum, and bunions
She can't wipe her arse, and her gusset's soiled
By the pus dripping out of her haemmoroids
Everybody's calling her Olive Boil
She said: "Don't take the piss"
Nodules up her bottom and pink polyps
Warts up her sphincter and her buttock lips
She leaves mucus wherever she sits
"Hey, lads! Look at this!"
She's got piles up her arse, piles up her bum, piles up
her fanny and a sore rectum
Piles up her arse, piles up her bum, and bunions
Everytime she squats upon my face
My nose gets full of evil-smelling paste
She had just turned twenty nine ... (needed a good
ironing)
Smelling like a tench ... (face looked like a welder's
bench)
Her tights were baggy at the rear ... (she could fart for
Lancashire)
She said she liked the taste of my bell-end cheddar
And she asked me if I wanted to bed her.
She was desperate for a fuck ... (said her cunt was
healing up)
Piles and NSU ... (creepy crawlies in her pubes)
Dribbling out of her womb ... (more semen (seamen) than
the QE2)
I've never been to bed with an ugly woman
But I've woken up with one or two
Sheep shaggers....
Went up in the hills,
We was on a binge,
Look for some pubs and up some minge.
Couldn't find us no beer,
We just found sheep,
So fuckin' many put the Peter to sleep.
There were sheep in the fields
And under the trees,
Sheep in the houses
And under your feet.
Sheep on the pavement
Sheep in the car
Sheep in the pubs and we all got barred.
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
The little wooly fuckers are all over the place,
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
We're fighting for the one with the prettiest face.
So this is what locals get up to at night.
Trying to get anthrax,
And make sure they use trite.
Sunk to their nuts whilst their rodding a ram,
And they're just as well hung for a sheep as a lamb.
Sheep shit on their foreskin and all over their suits,
Little black berries in their wellington boots,
Sheep shit on their trousers and all over their flies,
Don't let the farmer pull the wool over your knob.
Sheep, sheep everywhere.
Mutton daggers at the ready and they're full of mint sauce.
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
We're gonna get a bleating from the mother in law...
Ooowow!
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
All the farmers daugters' got a sheepskin coat.
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
They've got to wear a woolly if they want to pull a bloke.
Sheep, sheep everywhere,
"How you doing, pal? Mind if I bother you? Me bird's
buggered off in a BMW.
The cunt had a suit on, old enough to be her dad, I'd
like to kick his bollocks
To Bollington and back."
Don't be a plank, she wasn't worth a wank, we'll go up
town, we'll go down the Crown
You can buy a round of
Newcy Brown. There's loads more pebbles on the beach
Newcy Brown. There's loads more cobbles on the street
Newcy Brown. But did the bitch have massive tits?
"She was the best looking woman in all of Macclesfield,
She wouldn't talk to my pork, and her cunt lips were
sealed
She couldn't give a shit about me, but she could give a
toss
She had the best pair of melons I've ever come across."
Don't be a fool, she wouldn't suck your tool,
Don't be a clown, we'll go down the Crown, you can buy
a round of
Newcy Brown. There's loads more carrots in the sick
Newcy Brown. There's loads more hairs around me dick
Newcy Brown. If the bag don't bonk then you fuck them
off.
Don't fucking whinge, she had a sweaty minge, we've all
banged her clout,
You're missing nowt, buy another round of
Newcy Brown. There's loads more insects on the dog
Newcy Brown. There's loads more pubes around the bog
He'll eat your pies, he'll tell you lies,
You wouldn't believe that fat bastard's size
His massive gut is forty foot, it goes dark when he walks
in the pub
His buttocks part, you'll smell his farts,
He's so fat, he can't wipe his own arse.
So now you've heard about the ugly turd,
He's a virgin and he's never had a bird
Does anyone know he's gay? He goes round spreading AIDs.
(We haven't got a clue where the fat fucker is)
Has anyone seen him eat? He's never seen his feet.
The fat bastard.
Five hundred pounds, he's very round,
But he gets taller when he lies on the ground
He busts his flies, but he can't hide,
Coz he's too big, too fat and too fucking wide
Can anyone guess his weight? That was his fourteenth
plate
(We haven't got a clue where the fat fucker is)
His backside blubbers about, cleavage peeping out
The fat bastard
Where's the fat cunt at? Even his fat is fat.
(Found him, he's over here)
You took your time to spot him, he's got an enormous
bottom
When he finally got a snog, he left a spider in his gob,
and she ran off with a squeal. He found a
dogshit in the street, she wondered where he'd put it,
then she found it in her gusset, maggots in
her chicken tikka, he poured Blue Stratos down her
knickers. She went to drop a log, there was clingfilm on
the bog, and she didn't find it funny, coz her arse was
wet and runny, but its just a little joke, and he offered
her a smoke, then the fucking fag explodes, he runs
laughing down the road.
Naughtiest boy in the world
He put your windows through, coz you'd beaten him at
pool, fills your tea with senakot, you spend
a weekend on the bog, when you've pebble-dashed the bowl,
you find he's nicked the toilet roll,
and you run out of the loo, with your arse covered in
pooh, and you've got your trousers down, you
find he's brought the neighbours round, and your bottom's
brown and bare, there's a rope across
the stairs, you go crashing down two floors, he runs
laughing out the door.
Naughtiest boy in the world
Who pissed in your newcy brown?
Who let your tyres down?
Who put vomit in your custard?
Smeared the cat's arse with mustard?
Who put ratshit in your hat?
Well the weekend is coming and it's time for a bath,
We're going to sup some Boddies and we'll have a good laugh,
So leave the dog at home or it'll want some drinks.
Go to Dag's, get some fags, pull a couple of slags.
Give the dog a bone and leave it chained to the sink.
Have a pint have a pint 'cos it's Saturday night
And we'll have chips and gravy twice,
We'll have Pukka, chips and peas and two fried rice,
Cut the baby on the bayonet and a sweet and sour pork,
And half a dozen spare ribs and a Nagasaki sauce.
Pulled a dodgy boiler, it was worse than wife,
I you stand them on their heads then they're always alright,
Dragged her down silkworks with a few of us mates,
But don't look in the mirror when your fucking Grace.
And we'll have chips and gravy twice,
We'll have Pukka, chips and peas and two fried rice,
Cut the baby on the bayonet and a sweet and sour pork,
And half a dozen spare ribs and a Nagasaki sauce.
Guitar!
We all fell in the Viva with the Vinyl roof,
They do that in London 'cos they're all damn fuckin' poofs.
Bangin' and puking in the back seat,
We're going on a tour of Sunderland Street.
And we'll have chips and gravy twice,
We'll have Pukka, chips and peas and two fried rice,
Cut the baby on the bayonet and a sweet and sour pork,
And half a dozen spare ribs and a Nagasaki Sauce.
I've been going t'same pub fer twenty year,
It were half a crown then fer buy me beer,
But they closed it down fer redecorate,
They said we'll knock a wall down,
Change bar round,
Paint door brown,
It's going to look great.
When I walked into it I couldn't believe me eyes,
Every cunt had a shirt and tie,
Mirrored walls and daft plastic trees,
It were a fun pub disco,
Wine bar bistro,
Gay club puff house,
Cocktail carvary.
So I walked to the bar fer to get me ale,
She said Tetly Bitter's not for sale,
They had fizzy lager with a German name,
I said you've got to be joking,
I started choking, me voice were croaking,
I turned round.
Then a penguin grabbed me fer to throw me out,
He said you've got to dress like a twat end to get in now,
But I've been served in here for twenty years,
Now it's a fun pub disco,
Wine bar bistro,
Gay club puff house,
Cocktail...
Oh what the fuck fuck fuck have they done to me pub,
What the fuck fuck fuck have they done to me pub,
What the fuck fuck fuck have they done to me pub,
Now it's a fun pub disco,
Wine bar bistro,
Gay club puff house,
My bird rang up just the other day, she said:
"Get round fast, me folks have gone away. They've
booked two weeks in Torremolinos"
I was round in a flash with a rock hard penis.
Threw her down on her mum and dad's bed- skirt up,
knickers off, legs well spread.
One second after I'd filled up her twat, she shouts:
"Fuck pig and arsehole! Me mum and dad's back!"
Ran to the kitchen, pretend nowt's afoot- spic bastards
on strike, airport shut.
"Yes, Reverand, no Reverand," polite chit-chat,
Then I saw a dribble and I heard a splat...
(Wee-Splat!) Glodge of jism's landed on the floor
Left foot on the bastard, vicar chats about the war
(Wee-Splat!) Another glob on the 'welcome' mat,
If I stretch my right leg, I'll get my foot on the twat
My bird leans over and quietly whispers:
"Nip upstairs and try and find me knickers."
"If they catch me up there, I'll get shot, besides, I
can't move- I'm stuck to the spot,
And keep your knees together, stop moving about,
There's all manner of gear falling out of your clout."
"... And this band you're in, is it heavy metal?"
Christ almighty! She's over by the kettle!
(Wee-Splat!) Drop of spunk's landed by the cooker
Threw my jacket down and covered up the fucker
(Wee-Splat!) If he missed that cunt, the old git needs
spectacles
How much yoghurt do I keep in my testicles?
Sticky pattern on the lino getting bigger and bigger,
"Garden looks nice, more tea vicar?"
"Now then son, you been shagging our Louise?
There's one of her pubes stuck in your teeth,
And my fucking floor's covered in bladder adder snot,
May the Lord strike you down dead upon this spot!"
He slips in the slime and lands on his bot,
Here we come, Muttley, Beater, Stez Styx
We drink Boddington's bitter, and we smoke No6
Eh up! We're the Macc Lads, we're not fucking queer
We like pulling fit crack and supping lots of beer
Here we come, three fucking good friends, if you say owt
against us,
We'll kick your fucking bell end
We like chips n gravy, nowt'll take its place
Don't you fuck with the Macc Lads
Or we'll arrange your fucking face
Here we come, feeling fucking sore
Got us money last friday and pissed it up the wall
Eh up! We're the Macc Lads, we go down the pub
I must be going soft, or I'm turning paranoid,
Its been over a week since I went out with the boys
I've not been down the football, I've missed two
stoppy-backs
I haven't been disgusting when I'm chatting-up the
crack
I've not been sick or waved me dick at fanny in the
street
Poured bitter down me arsehole or drank a pint of piss
Or slashed through letterboxes, ate kebabs and puked
them up
Then I found this old phone number and I thought:
"Oh what the fuck- I'll ring it up."
"Help me Mr Methane, what the bollocks can I do?"
His secretary says she's got the Kremlin on line two,
And Maggie Thatcher's got a problem with the TUC
And Mr Methane's sorting out the German Unity
I said: "Sod the Bank of England and the economy,
Hang the commie bastards, twat the EEC,
I've got a problem with my beer and sex and chips n
gravy
And I haven't beat a poof up since a week last
Saturday,
Haven't had a shag since Tuesday, (I forgot to throw
her out)
I only drank ten pints last night (its practically
nowt)
The secretary says: "I see, I'll get him for you fast!"
Mr Methane came, picked up the phone, and offered his
advice
With a blast........
I slammed the phone down, pegged it down the local like
a shot,
Drinking beer like something that drinks beer a fucking
Rammed me knob right down the gob of the nearest bird
to me
Took her back, filled her crack, then said: "You've got
HIV,
But don't worry, if you hurry, there's a number you can
call,
He sorts out massive problems, and viruses are small,
So fuck off to the phonebox, slag, or I'll give you the
boot,
She rang up Mr Methane and he cured her instantly....
With a poot.
If you've got a cough, your bitter's off, or you just
can't get dead pissed,
Got no fags, the wife's a drag, kidnapped by
terrorists,
Or something's wrong with the plane you're on and its
crashing in the sea,
Call up Mr Methane, he's cured AIDs and dysentry,
Famines, floods and tidal waves and cancer of the heart
And he'll even tell you who will win the two o'clock at
York....
She was the perfect woman,
She was my kind of a bird,
'Cos she stayed in the kitchen and she never said a word.
She had real big tits and a lovely slappable arse,
But now she's into barbeques and wine bars.
Oh, I used to go out with her 'cos she cooked me all me meals,
Then one day she made it big when she won Miss Macclesfield.
She married and Italian just 'cos he were posh,
And they honeymooned in Brussles and he played a bit of squash.
Next she wed an ale baron who come from Lancashire,
But he wasn't rich, he was just another Wigan queer.
Oh, I used to out with here 'cos she cooked me all me meals,
Miss Macclesfield....
Then one day she made it big, when she won Miss Macclesfield.
She'll get fed up of buffets and one day she'll come back,
'Cos she knows that all the real men live in Macc,
She'll tell me that she loves me and she hated livin' with toffs,
So I'll slip her a length and then I'll tell her,
Fuck off.
I used to go out with her 'cos she cooked a nice bit of grub,
She may have been a beauty queen but I'd rather go down the pub.
He's harder than nails, tougher than bricks
(Weighs nine stones with muscles in his shit)
Karate king, kung-fu master
(Shaves with a plane, he's a fucking hard bastard)
He's filled more holes than a JCB
(So don't you fuck with McCavity)
He won't pat dogs, he eats dead cats
(He'll rip your bollocks off and stuff them up your twat)
He's had a blow job off an alligator
(He likes to wank with an old cheese grater)
He's got all the crack begging on their knees, they say:
(I'll bend down, you fill my cavity)
When he's necked his pint, he'll eat the glass
(He can smoke a million smelly French fags)
He can splash Brute all over his bollocks
(Fuck off you cunt, nothing rhymes with that)
Sorry
Er ... He can drink beer with a high specific gravity
(Thank fuck for that, coz it rhymes with..............
There she was just walking down Mill St,
She looked so fit, I just had to beat me meat
Blonde hair, blue eyes. Do you want to try my dick for
size?
Before I knew it, she had kicked me in the balls
I never said a word, I couldn’t walk, so I crawled
Dead fit, nice arse, and she knew her martial arts.
I could tell that she wanted my pork, so I offered her a
ride in my brand new Porsche
"Do you want a weekend on my yacht in St Moritz?"
She said: "Fuck off, you liar," and smashed my bollocks
with her fist.
She was playing hard to get, I wasn’t throwing in the
towel:
"Do you like chicken, love? Well then, taste my knob, its
foul (fowl)."
Big tits, long legs, she sank a spanner in my head.
Her tits hung low, but her arse was flabbier,
My fingers went in search of the pouting labia
Smelled dead strong, I thought I'll have a bit of this
And my tongue went looking for the clitoris
Can't fucking find it - where's the man in the boat?
The bastard's disappeared, she must be faking
Its like trying to find a bean in ten pounds of bacon
Loads of hair and uncooked mutton
There's no sign of a little pink button
Can't fucking find it - where's the man in the boat?
She turned over to watch Eastenders
There must be a diagram someone could lend us
Tried further up, got no reaction
Mucky hiker hitching West along the M65,
She's got seamen (semen) on her chest and Morecambe (more
come) on her sign
She said she'd got her menstrual cycle, I said: "You'd
better flog it"
Didn't want to make a meal of her, so I gave her a lump
of hot fish yoghurt
I bet she comes from Macclesfield
Filthy, fat and flatulent, she couldn't make a decent
brew,
Ugly as a pig, she couldn't cook a jew (coo-ca-choo)
Its no wonder they call them pigs, look at the way she
grunts
She thinks she's posh, but she's like a tampon,
Coz they're both just stuck-up cunts
I bet she comes from Macclesfield
Turned out she owned a pub in London, called the Old
White Hart
She became my Maid of Ale
Well, in this life there's a couple of certs,
One is death and the other's a nurse,
Well Lucy's old and they say she's passed it,
But I gave her one and her tits were that big,
And they said bollocks and they're made of plastic,
And that I never touched her,
That's just bagshit.
Lucy Lastic, we shagged everywhere,
On the washer in the kitchen and twice on the stairs,
Did you fuck? You're making it up.
Well I got a red pint round the back of our house,
Are you sure you want to play with my little red mouse?
I found his tail right up Lucy Lastic,
The Russians are coming, this is drastic.
So I closed the curtains and I sat on her belly,
There was dogfood in her clevage, forgot about torn welly.
Lucy Lastic's got a great back,
Two pounds of tripe just to take up the slack.
Was there fuck, you're making it up.
Lucy Lastic we shagged in a skip.
Dead cats in her knickers, tea bags on her tits.
We did it in a snowdrift in Wilderclough,
But Lucy Lastic was loose enough,
Lucy Lastic were loose enough,
Lucy Lastic were loose enough,
Wobble bottom, twenty stones, thyroid problem and big
boned
(Don't believe a word of that, he's a fat and lying cunt)
Doctor got my jaws wired up, coz I was as fat as fuck,
(Slim in weeks or money back.....we'll tone-up that runny
fat)
Fat boy wobbles like a weeble wobbles, we're all laughing
like a drain
Fat boy waddles like a walrus waddles now he's back on
the pies once again
I spend all my salary on beer and fags and calories
(He ate chips and mushy peas recovered from an autopsy)
Offal, hair, and suckling pig, I'll eat any fucking thing
(He'll eat dogs and abortions, but he don't like small
portions)
I'm so fat and gluttonous, I can't do my buttons up
(He ate half of Anglesey.... and two pygmies with
Well I want to sing a song about Lady Muck yoooh,
Well, it weren't her real name, but it rhymed with fuck.
An' I'm gonna nacc me voice doin' this for too long,
Come on Fast Fret, let's get on with the song.
She was sitting at a table shouting "Waiter where's the wine?"
But you don't come in MacDonald's if you really want to get pissed,
Take me for a drink, she handed me her car keys,
Get me out of here, the place is full of grelbies.
You can use her piss for purfume and her pubes for dental floss,
And her shit would make good perfume because she's so fucking posh,
Lady Muck.
Drove her round the town, Friday night were pay night,
She said she was a witch and turned into a layby,
Did a spell of snogging and a spot of fingering,
Found her name was Jonelle by the lables on her lingerie...
She had a fur coat and no knickers,
But she were a real lady,
And she never swore or farted
And she drove a gold Mercedes,
Lady Muck.
Yaaaaaaaaw.
You can use her piss for purfume and her pubes for dental floss,
And her shit would make good perfume because she's so fucking posh,
She had a fur coat and no knickers,
Butshe were a real lady,
And she never swore or farted
When she spilt her chips and gravy.
Lady Muck,
Lady Muck,
Lady Muck,
I bet my mates I could get a date with a girl called Edna
Gratton
She walked in the place, said she liked my face-
It was one she hadn't sat on
I said: 'I hope you're insured if you want me pork sword,
Its what comes when I sup Boddingtons, if you want a
quick fiddle,
Its wrapped round me middle, and in a warehouse down in
Warrington
Sit on me face, I'll guess your weight.'
They drip with fear when they see my beef spear
Come busting (combusting) out of me flies
When I've supped me ale, they get impaled, they just
can't take its size
Lying in this fucking field, outside Duckinfield,
Her knickers wet and sloppy
I was going to take her, when her cunt said:
'Breaker, breaker, anyone for a copy?'
I fumbled past the boils, dug out a rusty coil,
I could have been scarred for life
It lay there rusting, I said it smelled disgusting,
Packing up the PA at the end of the night,
Everybody's knackered and they're covered in shite
We've played to Southern poofters, Jocks and Druids
And showered each other with bodily fluids
Blood sweat and beer, fanny batter and piss
We're going to the services on the M6
Grease stop: bacon and eggs, sausage and beans and a pile
of fried bread
Grease stop: who'll eat the most? Ben Nevis has pissed on
Slippery's toast
Costs a fucking packet, but don't you knock it
Stez hid his beans in his inside pocket
I've got a pickled liver, I don't give a shit, more tar
on my lungs than the A56,
Spots on my face from too many chips,
No woman would give me the crust off her clit
Blood sweat and beer, beer sweat and blood
Seventeen miles to Michael Wood
Grease stop: piles of fried bread, Muttley got hit by a
low-flying egg
Grease stop: bring your own ale, black puddings are off,
the bread buns are stale
Grease stop: pie on your head, beans down your teeshirt,
soup down your leg
Grease stop: who'll eat the most? Slippery pissed on
McCavity's toast
Blood sweat and beer, beer sweat and crap
Poof at the clinic - he's got the gay plague:
'Help me doctor, my bum's in pain.'
'Get down Kwok Lai's for a 45, eight tandooris and a
chicken pie,
Ten pints of Guinness and a vindaloo, box of All Bran and
a bowl of prunes
Dash to the bog and lock the door-
Then you'll know what your arsehole's for.'
Don't be a poof or a queer brown hatter
A turd burglar or a buttock basher
Eat chips n gravy and cod in batter
You'll be safe from the botty slappers
MPs down South eat caviar
(Smells as fishy as a poofter's fart)
She says we eat shit if we live up North
(She needs a gobful of Macc Lad's pork)
'Chips and gravy make you spotty'
(They're the ones with the dead sore bottys)
If you want to be a Macc Lad and not get AIDs
I knew she had pox, when I looked for clean socks,
I found fingers under the bed,
And a couple of toes where the fungus grows on the
pillow next to her head
Didn't need a detective to know she's infected
There's a greenish pus oozing out of her truss, I put
on protective clothes,
I found some gout when I mucked her out and the smell
got up my nose
She decomposes, but its good for the roses
The skin's got no pigment, I think its malignant
We've not shared a bed since we've been wed,
I'm gone fishing most of the time
Because my bride's a thalidomide, her legs don't open
too wide
She never answers, I think she's got cancer
There's a growth on each cheek, and the discharge seeps
Through the mushrooms onto the sheets
The bedsores weep and the mucus reeks
And she hasn't washed-up for weeks
Haven't touched her in ages, but it might be contageous
She lies around rotting, when she should be out
shopping
She lies there pining, when my shirt needs ironing
I'd rather catch sardines than ringworm and gangrene
She never answers, I think she's got cancer
She festers there with her ginger hair
You know that means she smells of baked beans
She's angling for an easy life, I'm angling for a ten
pound pike
(I'd rather have kippers than what's in her knickers)
We've not shared a bed since we've been wed
But I'm not a nonce or a faggot
It wasn't her looks that got me hooked,
Working at the dentist, community service,
Trying to fix the lighting and undercoat the door.
She ran down the road, her teeshirt was bouncing,
Looked like two rabbits fighting, she never wore
support.
Said she had a toothache, had to see a dentist,
'Go and take your clothes off, now then, open wide.
Looks like you need a filling, I'll have to do some
drilling,'
She wasn't very willing, she wouldn't part her thighs.
Her orifice stank of fish, I bent to kiss her clitoris,
it smelled of piss,
Around her lips, were scabby bits, she had nice tits,
I'll get her pissed she won't resist.
Had to get her paralytic, got out the antiseptic, and
the anaesthetic,
And held it on her nose.
Had to get inside her, 'I think its an incisor,'
dribbling saliva,
I gave her a dose.
'Your gum's got an infection, you'll need a quick
injection...
I'll use my large erection.'
She gobbled down my beef.
The nosh was eighteen carat, I pushed against her
palate,
She sucked my mutton mallet, got pearl drops on her
teeth,
'I'm sorry miss, but here's the twist, I'm here to help
put up some shelves.
I'm no dentist.
But go next door, second floor,
Its the sperm bank, they'll pay a grand for what's in
I got a buer that works in Dillons in the back of me
Vauxhall Viva,
She had massive melons and I wanted bang her beaver,
She had real bad breath and a touch of the pox,
But I ripped off her bags and her sweaty socks,
And I Rattled my 'tatoes against her dirt box.
Spread your legs and get your knickers down.
Spread your legs and don't make a sound,
I'm God's gift to women in this fuckin' town,
So spread your legs and get your knickers down.
She said I was good looking
And I looked a bit like George Michael,
But she didn't want a fuckin' she were on her menstrual
cycle,
So I gives her a lift down to Sandbats.
She after some grub, she were on the cadge,
So I got some meat and stuffed it up her vag.
Spread your legs and get your knickers down,
Spread your legs and don't make a sound,
I'm God's gift to women in this fuckin' town,
So spread your legs and get your knickers down.
It were a messy job, but I kept my shirt on.
A penny round collar that I got from Burton's,
And I got a good taste of her Bird's Eye big
curtains....
Spread your legs and get your knickers down,
Spread your legs and don't make a sound,
I'm God's gift to women in this fuckin' town,
So spread your legs and get your knickers down.
Get weavin'.
Well the fair comes down just once every year,
The Macc Lads go there when they've supped their beer,
So get weavin',
With the Brut 33,
And forget your tea,
We're going down town to get some chips and pies,
And I'll bet you ten pints I'll get you whipped tonight,
I'll bet you ten pints I'll get you whipped tonight.
There's crack over there, sittin' on benches,
Two of them are dead fit,
And one of them's got dentures.
Get weavin', the blond one's mine,
Get weavin', it's nearly closing time.
Hey up my love, are you comin' for a ride,
We're all going to the fair tonight,
We're all going to the fair tonight.
I said, Het up my love,
I've got a suggestion,
Hey up my love, will you feel my errection,
Hey up my love do you want a meat injection?
Your eyes are beautiful brown,
How's about buying a round?
Stez is in the subway beating up a queer,
So don't mess with Macc Lads and don't spill their beer...
Get weavin', in Macclesfield,
Get weavin', and get your knackers feeled.
Kiss your crack but miss her lips,
She's got a scabby face and she smells of chips,
She's got a scabby face and she smells of chips.
I said, hey up my love, I've got a suggestion,
Hey up my love, will you feel my errection,
Hey up my love, do you want a meat injection?
Your eyes are beautiful brown,
How about buying a round?
Hey up my love, hey up my loive, hey up my love,
How about buying a round?
Sitting on the bog in foreign parts, looking round for
anything to wipe my arse,
There's a second hand curry splattered round the rim,
And red and black scrapings from an Arab's foreskin
You can't drink the water, you've got to boil it
All the women smell of Egyptian toilets
There's a shitty clogged-up copper pipe sticking out of
the bowl
Hosepipes, flies, foreign smells, no fucking toilet
roll.
It was a cheap package holiday with a guarantee-
You'll pass nothing solid 'til you're back in
Macclesfield
They warned me not to eat the food, and everything's in
litres
But they didn't say a word about a million sausage
eaters.
Squareheads in the pubs, Jerries on the streets,
Krauts in the bars, Erics on the beach
Got to do something fast to clear away this shit,
I'll have to wipe my bottom on a passing Fritz.
Oi! Adolf! Shut your fucking trap
Take your Merc and piss off back with your holiday
schnapps (snaps)
Oi! Adolf! Stop pushing in the queue,
Try pushing into Poland and we'll beat you black and
blue
I'm an Englishman abroad and my ringpiece is a mess
My foot's wedged against the door to keep out the S.S.
This foreign khasi stinks of daygo turds that missed
the bowl
There's Huns outside, slapping thighs and wearing
lederhosen.
I hope these German bastards have the runs as bad as
I'll fight them on the beaches to defend my lavatory
I'm shouting: 'Fuck off, Herman, who won the fucking
war?'
The fuckers pushed their gaspipes under my bog door.
Oi! Adolf! Nineteen sixty six!
I provide the gas in here, fuck off back to Auschwitz
Oi! Adolf! Fuck off back to Belsen
I'm not a yid, I'm on the bog, annex something else,
son.
Oi! Adolf! You talking to me?
How come all you krauts can speak German fluently?
Oi! Adolf! Nineteen forty five!
He squidges in the van,
All twenty four stones,
He gets three kebabs and he eats them on his own,
Quick trouser cough Nevis touches cloth,
Fuck fuck hide behind a truck, all the windows are steaming up.
Gas gas quick lads,
The air in here is turning brown,
Gas gas quick lads,
Get the fucking windows down,
Gas gas quick lads,
Nevis has gone and done a troof,
Gas gas quick lads,
I think the big fat twat has fallen through.
Ben Nevis filled the van with odour of turd,
Would have hung for less gas at Nurenburg,
Four chicken curries, eight tandories,
Boiled eggs, three kebabs fuck sake let him take command.
Gas gas quick lads,
Everyone's choked to death,
Gas gas quick lads,
Has us out with botty breath,
Gas gas quick lads,
Dig a trench, avoid the stench,
Gas gas quick lads,
Nevis is filthy, fat and flatulent.
Yooooo.
At a transport cafe he gets baked beans,
Wretched rasp blows a hole in his jeans,
Everybody choking, nobody smoking,
Looks round, blames the dog,
Covered in a smelly fog.
Gas gas quick lads,
What the fuck has he been eating,
Gas gas quick lads,
He must have had some rotton meat in,
Gas gas quick lads,
I've got tears in me eyes,
Gas gas quick lads,
I think a rat crawled up his arse hole,
I think a rat crawled up his arse hole,
I know they eat snails, but they sell cheap ale, I drove
on the ferry:
'Bonjour, froggies!'
Garlic stench from the filthy French, I've come all this
way and
They don't sell Boddies
If you take a look in the history book, its Waterloo and
chateau smashing,
Every chance, we used to nip to France, grab a club and
go frogbashing.
Hairy arms and hairy legs, forget the rape, we'll just go
looting,
Back to Dover in the old Landrover, ten frogs in the
back,
It was a good day's shooting.
The dirty gets eat invertibrates, burn our sheep, they
need a good thrashing,
You see, the fact is, we're out of practise, its been too
long since we went frogbashing.
The tarts over there, they're covered in hair, its hard
to know just where the gash is,
All French lasses have got moustaches and serve your beer
Well, I spent last night trying to chuck me bird,
She were clinging to me leg like an old sick turd,
I said your tits are too small and your legs are too short,
I want a fit bird from the Sunday Sport,
I can't hear me records when you sit on me face,
And then she mouths off in front of me mates,
But you told me that you loved me,
I never fucking did,
You used fer bring me flowers,
I said shut your fucking grid,
You acted dead sweet and you called me fluffy pup,
You can cook you can fuck you can do the washing up,
Now I've had enough, come on fuck off,
Get stuffed.
Well I took her one side, and we started chatting,
I said tell the lads that and I'll kick your twat in,
Now piss ofback your mother's 'cos I've had enough,
Say another word, get a boot up chuff,
You're spotty and your ugly and you smaell like Billingsgate,
And then she mouths off in front of me mates...
But you told me that you loved me,
I never fucking did,
You used fer bring me flowers,
I said shut your fucking grid,
You acted dead sweet and you called me fluffy pup,
You can cook you can fuck you can do the washing up,
Now I've had enough, come on fuck off,
Get stuffed.
Well, I stormed off 'cos I were going crazy,
When I got to the chippy I had one foot in the gravy,
She got a seven foot dad,
Well just about,
And he was going to rip me liver out,
I said here you are grandad, your turn to hold her,
There's half a pint of gravy and a chip on me shoulder...
But you told me that you loved me,
I never fucking did,
You used fer bring me flowers,
Shut your fucking grid,
You acted dead sweet and you called me fluffy pup,
You can cook you can fuck you can do the washing up,
Now I've had enough, come on fuck off,
Get stuffed.
I said you can cook you can fuck you can do the washing up,
Now I've had enough, come on fuck off,
