| I’m a part of the furniture, this boozer’s my home
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| I’ve been here forever, this barstool’s my throne
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| I’m drinking short whiskeys with a half pint of stout
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| I smoke senior service or one of yours when i’m out
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| And i’m always out
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| The women say i’m foul, the men say i’m harmless
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| I’m the source of entertainment and conversation tireless
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| The vicar gives me sermons, the young ones give me cheek
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| You can read all about me in the bogs on high street
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| On high street
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| These may seem like wasted years
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| Ah, but the stories i could tell
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| When these shoulders were broad and strong
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| And i served my country well
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| I’m not a picture of perfect health
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| But i’m feeling no pain today
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| So you can fill my glass again
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| And i’ll grow old my own way
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| I’ve woke up near the barley fields
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| Like a sack on the side of the road
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| With a belly full of drink
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| And a chill running through my bones
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| If i dropped dead tomorrow
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| You’d hear the righteous say
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| That iw as not a christian man
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| And i pissed my life away
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| That’s what they’d say
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| -repeat first verse- |