Beginning early afternoon
(She says you cannot start too soon)
But not yet to some rough saloon
Cos that would be remiss
But rather have a few shots in
At home with probably some gin
“Why pay money?” she will grin
She’ll soon be on the piss.
But then a taxi into town
(That’s Muggins here – I’m the clown
That drives her so she won’t fall down –
Cos she’s got form for this);
She’s blamed wet steps, she’s blamed her shoes
All sorts of reasons she has used
But never, ever blamed the booze
When she’s been on the piss.
Accompanied by Stef and Sam
That’s daughter, friend and daughter’s mam
There’s one of mutton, two of lamb;
Best give all three a miss;
They’ve got a plan, so here’s the rub
First off they fill up with grub
Then some cheap and sleazy pub
Beware! They’re on the piss.
No time for chat, they sally forth
And find beside the river’s wharf
The Bridge and then at Tileyard North
They start to reminisce;
The Woodman might be their next stop
Six Chimneys and The Polka Hop
“The Black Boy does a decent drop”
Our Gert is on the piss.
Blokes might all be tanked up with beer
But watch them shuffling, cowed with fear
Once they see Our Gert get near
And wants a Christmas kiss;
Word spreads like wildfire round the bar
“Sup up quick, lads; drain your jar”
You might think this is quite bizarre
But Our Gert is on the piss.
Onward into Wetherspoon’s
The Black Swan and then Henry Boon’s
Bellies now like party balloons
Not yet at the abyss;
From now on though it’s all downhill
Four boozy hours of slop and spill
The three of them have had their fill
Once Gert’s been on the piss.
“Where’s that bit of paper gone
With the taxi’s number on?
Silly me! I’ll phone my John”
(The joys of wedded bliss);
Thirsts are slaked, their bellies grown
Each one’s put on half a stone
Time to wend their way back home
Our Gert’s been on the piss.
