Monday, 25 December 2023

My old man bought a huge campervan

 

My old man bought a huge campervan
But didn’t dilly dally there to pay
Off went the van wiv our loot packed in it
I stayed behind wiv a no cock French bit
But she ticked and tribled, tribled and tickled
Lost me job and left here in the gloam
Well you can’t trust a special like the old time coppers
When you need them not to search your home.

 


Last Christmas you bought me a van
But the very next day you gave it to mum
This year, to save me from fears
I'll give you up to the special

Last Christmas you gave me a fridge
But the very next day they took it away
This year, to save me from smears
I'll grass you up to the special.

One untruth and twice a lie
I keep my freedom, but you still catch it by and by
Tell me hubby, will you recognize me?
After 10 years if I’m still here to see.


Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and flung it
With a clang the iron bounced as head it hit
Now I know what a fool you’ve been
But if you sing to the cops, I’ll grass you up again

Last Christmas you gave me a phone
But the very next day it burned all away
This year so it’s you that disappears
I’ll inform on you to the special

Last Christmas you gave me a jag
But the very next year you’ll be an old lag
This year, to save me from sneers
I'll snitch you up to the special

A crowded shower, friends with lusting eyes
No hiding for you it just adds to the spice
I found you weren’t someone to rely on
when hiding the camper and now it’s gone

I was a saint with a following and a fire in my heart
We lived under cover but now you depart
Oh, oh, now I’ve found a real fall guy
Tell them about me? You’d better not try.

Last Christmas you gave me a pen
But the very next day you leaked again
This year, to keep from streets queer
I'll rat on you to the special

Last Christmas you gave me some pots
But the very next day I’m in all your plots
This year, to save me from jeers
I'll turn you in to the special


In the bleak midwinter
Bra tycoons still Mone
Someone threw an Iron
Hit Hubby like a stone

Hums bin hawing
Shags on slags on slags
In the bleak midwinter
Taxes only grow

 

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