The Macc Lads Made Of Ale Lyrics
Mucky hiker hitching West, along the M65,
She's got seamen (s____) on her chest and Morecambe (more come) on her sign,
She said she'd got her menstrual cycle, I said: "You'd better flog it"
Didn't want to make a meal of her, so I gave her a lump of hot fish yoghurt.
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macc.
Filthy, fat and flatulent, she couldn't make a decent brew,
Ugly as a pig, she couldn't cook a jew (coo-ca-choo)
Its no wonder they call them pigs, look at the way she grunts,
She thinks she's posh, but she's like a tampon, Coz they're both just stuck-up c___s.
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macc.
Give us two pints and a quarter of port and a packet of three, we're going s___ your daughter.
Turned out she owned a pub in London, called the Old White Hart,
She became my Maid of Ale But I had to put up with her fishy c___ farts.
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macclesfield,
Eh up!, I bet she comes from Macc.
©1986 The Macc Lads
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