One For The Lads.....

  

I never drink beer on a Monday,

Cos Monday's the day fer mi health

An' the wife's got me countin' them units,

I've just got to take care o' miself

So I merely have wine wi' mi supper,

An' just the one litre OK?

Then a rather large rum in mi coffee

An' I calls that mi sensible day



I never drink wine on a Tuesday,

Cos Tuesday's mi weightwatchin' club

It's the day when I eat nowt but cabbage,

The day I don't go much fer grub

Now a diet demands plenty fluid,

Summat light an' completely fat-free

So I've chosen that strong German lager

An' I just have five pints wi' mi tea



I never drink lager on Wednesday,

Cos Wednesday's the day fer mi jog

It's tracksuit an' trainers at mid-day

Then I'm off up the road wi' the dog

First stop's at the Globe fer some Guinness,

Three swift ones'll get me to grips

Then I carry on round to The Shepherds

Fer three more an' a burger an' chips

I make sure that I'm suitably rested,

Then I sprint back to our garden wall

In a time of under twelve minutes,

An' it's four 'undred metres an' all



I never drink Guinness on Thursday,

Cos Thursday's mi day to relax

I likes to sit out in t' back garden

In mi brown zip-up cardie an slacks

After lunch I might stroll by the river,

Breeze in at the Fisherman's Drop

Where I lounge on the terrace all lordly,

Sippin' shandy, but beawt any pop

Then cos I've been good through the day like,

She'll allow me to waver a smidge

So mi evenin's spent watchin' the footy

Wi' a few packs o' Boddies from t' fridge



I never drink Boddies on Friday,

Cos Friday's mi night on the razz

An' we meet in The Firkin at seven,

Owd Nodger an' me an' Fat Baz

Oh The Firkin's a beer-drinker's heaven,

Wi' fifteen real ales from the jug

An' we start wi' the ones in the tap-room

An' we works our way round to the snug

By midnight we're all talkin' gubbins

An' we're off fer a curry up town

But there's summat not reyt about curry

Cos I never seem t' keep the stuff down

We 'ave a good laugh wi' the waiters,

An' Baz moons his bum fer a joke

Then I'm home fer a nightful o' passion,

Cos I'm known as a passionate bloke



I never do much on a Sat'day,

Cos Sat'day's mi time fer a think

Cos me an' the wife are not speakin' today,

I'm a drunken, fat pig an' I stink

So I sit near the lavvie pretendin'

That really I'm feelin' just great

But I'm goin' right off that Indian food

If it leaves me in this bloody state

It's later I make the decision,

On my forty-third trip to the bog

There's only one thing cures an upset like this

An' they call it the 'air o' the dog

I ring Nodge an' Baz on mi mobile

An' both of 'ems likewise in pain

So we're back in The Firkin at quarter-past-six

An' we do it all over again



I never say Firkin on Sunday,

Cos Sunday's mi day to repent

I'm ashamed of all o' that boozin' I've done

An' all o that money I've spent

I begs the wife fer forgiveness

An' I promise I'll alter mi ways

An' she gives me a kiss an' a cuddle,

Like she did in our newly-wed days

We watch Songs of Praise on the telly,

Then a nice pot o' tea an' some cakes

An' I swear now I've climbed up the ladders,

I'll never slide down any snakes

But it's borin' on telly on Sunday,

An' I can't say I'm ever impressed

So I 'ave a walk out round the village

An' stop off at the Collier's Rest

Now the beer's a bit crap in The Collier's

So I leave an' pop round to The Swan

Where I flatten a shed-load o' Tetley's

An' I'm bloody well back to square one