Saturday, 24 November 2012

no change from sixpence ~

Poor Joey

I'm Joey the Budgie, I'm a boy or a girl
I'm probably the most typical caged bird in the world
In Cranham or Hounslow I sit on my perch
Old Mother Nature's left me right in the lurch
This my routine, first I ponder & peck
I look in the mirror & I shit on the deck
I try to fly, I bamg my head
I think of something creative instead
I ruffle my feathers & have a good scratch
Not that I want to be deleted by an owl
I've got to fight this awful situation somehow
Poor Joey, who's a pretty boy then..??
Poor Joey, poor Joe
Poor Joey, a bundle of joy then
Poor Joey, hello

How the ruddy hell does she expect me to speak
With half a ton of cuttlefish stuck in my beak..??
I go into a moody, disdainfully preen
& just to upset her, mutter something obscene
I appreciate the difficulties of owning a pet
Speaking as a budgie, it's like Russian roulette
I was bred for a purpose & I shouldn't complain
I know you'll forgive me when I sing this refrain
Poor Joey, everyone's a bastard
Poor Joey, poor Joe
Poor Joey, every Christmas they try & get me plastered
Poor Joey, hello
Poor Joey, poor Joe
Cheerio.....Ian Dury.

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