Too tired to drink my wine on Friday night
I'm almost retired to my bed, but fine
Tomorrow, I hope. I kept catching sight
Of the bedside clock's red numeral shine
Till 4.15 a.m. But no lie-in
Thanks to the prick who scraped his stick outside
My window on the path. He was tryin'
To scrape up leaves. God knows why. Well he tried
My patience alright. Brain scrambled and fried
I tumbled out of bed, a hideous sight
Sleepless in Salford. Hopeless to confine
Myself at home to rest, for, sadly, I'd
Arranged a bloody meeting. My boss might
Have given me a bollocking. (End whine.)
Fri 16 Nov 2007
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