Half-past-six with a belly full of grub
Stiff with a quiff quits home for the pub
Seven to eleven in the public bar
'We're here for the beer and a laugh – Ha-Ha!'
He's wed to a flooze but they hardly speak
So he hits the booze most nights of the week
'And it's a lousy life,' she thinks
'It's a lousy life, and it stinks'
Flatulent, fat and forty, fortified
He's put fourteen pints of bitter inside
Nowt in his pockets as he staggers home
But a packet of fags and a greasy comb
He slams the door, kicks off his shoes
And is fast asleep before the tea brews
'And it's a lousy life,' she thinks
'It's a lousy life, and it stinks'
She looks at beery slumped in his chair
Call it a marriage? There's bugger all there
An hour more telly to drunken snores
What with him and the box and the household chores
Home's a hopeless habit, like heroin
With its needle stuck firmly under her skin
'And it's a lousy life,' she thinks
'It's a lousy life, and it stinks'
It's a lousy life for the washed-up wife
Of a permanently plastered
Permanently plastered
Permanently plastered pissed up
Pissed up, pissed up bastard
Bastard
Bastard