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Wednesday, 22 December 2010

The Curse of the Drinking Man

Let me tell you something that, to me, sounds absurd
A man is defined by the sweat in his work
Well, I'll keep drinking every day that I can
'Cos work is the curse of the drinking man

In the working man's ring women are the prize
With sweet-smelling hair and big, soulful eyes
Well, I'll get me a woman, just you mark my words
This hard-drinking man'll get a working man's girl

But here's the funny thing about starting conversation
You gotta keep'm interested without letting'm know you're wasted
So just keep asking questions and every now and then
In between your listening slip in a compliment

Then every time you say the tiniest sweet thing
Watch her eyes drift down towards her wedding ring
That's when you know you've got her so give that girl a wink
But don't take her back to your place 'cos she won't like how much you drink

See, you take one look in my house and it's clear I like a drink
There's empty bottles on the floor and empty bottles in the sink
Empty bottles down the sofa, and bottles in the fridge
I got shelves made out of bottles covered with bottle ornaments

There's bottles in the mailbox and bottles on the lawn
Whisky on the ceiling and whisky up the walls
There's bottles in the treehouse that I built for the kid
Of a stripper that I knocked up back in 1996
(I was 12 years old!)

Now I think about it I should stick to loving ales
Whisky and champagne, gold tequila and cocktails
Gin and juice, Manhattans
'Cos love is the curse of the drinking man

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