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The Trouser Cough.
It was a Sunday morning,
recovering in my bed.
From a night of drinking,
what was this inside my head?
Drummers were a beating
with bass drums oh a banging
A life felt near to death,
my conscience just a hanging...
For in the laundry basket
there lay my cotton shame,
no words could spell out my guilt
of what was my human blame.
Yes I"d had a curry
along with lots of Ales,
but my memory although dull
could remember certain details...
Mother came to do my wash
I could not laugh it off,
She would not see the funny side
of my laundry basket trough.
The door burst off its hinges!
"How much do you bloody smoke?"
"See you and all your Liquors."
"Have you seen these nicotine stains
on the gusset of your knickers?"
Oh I will never live it down,
or ever laugh it off,
That Sunday morning after
my unfortunate trouser cough!
