English or Russian

Polish or Prussian.

He is a stumblebum wreck.

But hey what the heck?

The rope around his neck

Comes from a can

Of Skol Super or Crest

9% of the best.

He drinks to forget

And when he can’t afford beer

He mixes coke with the Meths

And he sleeps in a doorway

Or anywhere he finds to lay.

He is well read and versed

In the way life has cursed

And dogged his every step

Again he drinks to forget.

He knows what the night yields

In the soup cans and sandwiches

Down in Lincolns Inn Fields.

If you look you will find

Shambling wrecks of this kind.

They don’t hide

They’re not shy

They’ve no pride

Just a wish they could die.

Or get out of the rut


There’s always a but.

One more Skol Super or Crest.

Another 9% of the best.


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