And though six stone wet through, he grabbed bottles two
And swore that he'd soon have a go.

But nine bottles of " broon" had ruined his aim
And he missed drunken Geordie by yards
All that he did was to cripple poor Sid
Who was just sitting there - playing cards.

Then Sid's wife made a grab for her handbag
And from it she drew forth a knife
She made a quick stab at MacFadgen
And she ruined the poor man's sex life.

This caused a row and a ruction
For MacFadgen was a popular lad
And besides that he played for the darts team
And he was the best bloody player they had.

The battle commenced then in earnest
Each one took sides in the fight
Except for the manager's pet budgie
Who bombed everybody in sight!

Then in rushed a bus trip from Sunderland
They were bound for the French Eiffel Tower
  They were weary of travel and gagging for drink
Because they'd been on the bus for an hour.

At the head of the crew was a lady called Lou
Who was renowned for her skill with a whip
From 25 yards she could cut packs of cards
And have a pretty good try at your zip

This ungallant crew had swallowed a few
And one was heard to relate
"By!... this is the way to spend Saturday night
Culture and Paris can wait!"

The wounded lay moaning and groaning
Some asked to be given last rites
Even the poor budgie was wounded
Struck by a dart in mid-flight.

One man alone was left standing
It was the tramp with the gin soaked old face
Who finished his drink at the double
And went in search of a quieter place.

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