So I brushed the
chick I was talking to in an attempt to save her life
I reckon she was
under thirty, and it would only start a blue
If my bride she
saw her flirting, with her man of fifty-two
I stepped away, picked
up my beer, gazed at the TV screen
Tried to watch
the footy, but right through my guise she’d seen
“What the heck
are you playin’ at, you silly drunken fool
You told me you
were comin’ here to have a game of pool”
“It’s okay Bev”, I
blurted out, in my finest John Wayne voice
“I’ve just been
watchin’ footy, and chattin’ here with Joyce”
“She’s a footy
lover, baby, she loves it just like you”
“Step aside you idiot,
hey Joyce, let’s have a blue”
The wife she
marched right up to Joyce and got squarely in her face
Joyce held her
ground, and stared right back, not a single backward pace
“What do you
think you’re doing, struttin’ with my man?
I’ve a bloody
mind to grab your bits, and stuff 'em in a can”
Bev grabbed her
hair and pulled her down, poor Joyce she hit the floor
The boys they
grabbed their beers and fled, I was headed for the door
Soon Joyce she ran out
of the bar, shrieking as she fled
The wife she
chuckled as she watched, then she whacked me in the head
“Get your lazy
drunken arse back home this very minute
I’ve got a
bathtub full of shit back home, and you my boy are in it”
I picked myself
up from the floor, I grimaced through the pain
Another shit hot Friday night, gee I'm glad I came
If it isn't Joyce it could be Shirl, or it could be young Natash
Bev the bride she isn't fussy, about which tart she gets to bash
A good pub blue after a long days work is Bev's most perfect day
Me, I don't mind, 'cause I know the truth, for Bev this is foreplay
We'll wander home and have a blue, she'll give my ears a bash
She'll open up the oven and throw my dinner to the trash
Then we'll make up and have a kiss, some comfort we shall seek
But you can bet your very last VB, we'll be back again next week
If it isn't Joyce it could be Shirl, or it could be young Natash
Bev the bride she isn't fussy, about which tart she gets to bash
A good pub blue after a long days work is Bev's most perfect day
Me, I don't mind, 'cause I know the truth, for Bev this is foreplay
We'll wander home and have a blue, she'll give my ears a bash
She'll open up the oven and throw my dinner to the trash
Then we'll make up and have a kiss, some comfort we shall seek
But you can bet your very last VB, we'll be back again next week
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