| When you wake up in the morning of the night before
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| And there’s someone knocking' on your front door
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| And you haven’t got a drink and you’re sick to the core
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| You’ve got what they call a hangover
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| Well your head is splitting and your stomachs in pain
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| And you tremble when you hear that knock again
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| And you’re certain that the knocker is the law that’s plain
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| Oh you think the worst with a hangover
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| Well you try to think back on the night before
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| You’ve got a vague recollection but you’re not too sure
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| You were out with a woman it’s her husband for sure
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| It’s a dreadful thing a hangover
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| Oh you drove home drunk but you think you were right
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| But you seem to recall going through red lights
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| It’s the law at the door and he’s got you in his sights
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| It all looks bad with a hangover
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| Oh you look into the mirror and you’ve got a black eye
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| And there’s blood on your shirt from the other guy
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| Must be him at the door I wish I could die
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| Would be better than this hangover
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| Well you pluck up courage and you open up the door
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| Expecting a punch or a bluey from the law
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| Or a jealous husband with a gun in his paw
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| At least it would end this hangover
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| Well strike me pink you near drop dead
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| Why it’s Don and Bert and Stan and Ned
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| With a carton of coldies for your aching head
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| Medicine for a hangover
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| Well you start to recover and get a couple down
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| You think things over oh weren’t you a clown
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| To worry if the law or a husband came round
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| Ohhh it must have been a bad hangover
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| So you all head off to the local once more
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| And you’re a little self conscious as you walk through the door
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| But at closing time you’re as bad as before
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| And you’re in for another hangover
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| Oh show me the way to go home cause you’re in for another hangover |