Grafting Haddock in the George

When I was young
And the blood pulsed swiftly through my veins
Before age, trampling upon youth
Powdered my head
With the snows of fifty winters
I never thought about the future
Or what I would become
Didn't care – still don't
For as far as I'm aware
They don't stitch pockets into shrouds

Oh those Forestry Commission roads
What a tale they could tell

I am the godfather of nothing whatsoever
Our Martin on the other hand thought he was the town cheese
Purported to deal in short-term solutions for long-legged men
He also liked the sound of his own voice
He was at Knowsley Safari Park one day
Where he saw a monkey with a banana in one hand
And a tin-opener in the other
And he shouted over: "Hey, you don't need the tin-opener for that!"
To which the monkey replied: "It's for the custard, dickhead!"

It was loft ladders what killed our Martin

Larry on the other hand cleans out the drains at the Methodist Centre
And wears a permanent smile
He reckons a contented mind is a continual feast

When darkness falls, I'm as happy as Larry

Sometimes I set out for Ludlow
Sometimes I end up in Chepstow

I am a happy man
I drive the happy van
I scaled the Matalan
Made it, Ma, top of the world!

Grafting haddock in the back room of The George
Grafting haddock in the back room of The George
Grafting haddock in the back room of The George