The pub went hush, could hear a f__ drop,
A glass vibrates on the table top.
Far away, a worrying sound,
The rumble of flesh, from the other side of town.

Sup up your beer, collect your f__s,
Before we're hit by flying jam rags,
Clattering heels and giggling squeals,
They scream, they howl, they hiss,
Totter down the cobbles, teeshirts a wobble,
It's the hen night on the p___.

"We're not fussy who we're s___ging,
Just get us a rum and black in,
We'll s___ geordies, we'll s___ scousers,
Get your c___s out of your trousers"

I'm buried beneath giggling flesh.
A size fourteen in a size eight dress,
Spritzers spilled, cameras flash,
Your knee's full of a___,
Your 'tache is full of gash,
Handbags swinging, drunken singing:
"Show us yer k___" and "Gissa kiss",
Chippendales then chips and ale,
It's the hen night on the p___

"We're not fussy who we're s___ging,
Just get us a rum and black in,
We'll s___ geordies, we'll s___ scousers,
Get your c___s out of your trousers"

To Fade

©1993 The Macc Lads

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75.114
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