  
A Boozer's TaleI 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 So I never drink beer on a Monday, Copyright; Steve
Morris
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