The last one t' come was yer Uncle,
An' it chewed all the tyres of 'is bike."

But Bert 'adn't reckoned on Charlie,
The bloke who cleaned t'windows on t' street.
'E said 'ow 'e'd teach Bert a lesson,
For chewin' 'is mop so t' speak.

All weekend 'e spent in the bike shed,
Knockin' away with 'is 'ammer.
At a load of old buckets an' braces,
That 'e fastened wi' bolts an' a spanner.

'E polished the lot t' perfection,
Then pulled the suit over 'is 'ead.
"By eck," said 'is wife when she saw 'im,
"You're jus' like Ned Kelly," she said.

As the Sun crept up over the chimneys,
Charlie stood, at the end of the street.
An' Bert loudly growled from 'is doorstep,
While scrapin' the claws on 'is feet.

For a moment they eyed up each other,
An' the neighbours jus' stood there inert.
Then Charlie, 'e hoisted 'is ladders,
An' clanked as 'e walked towards Bert
  Bert were on 'im in a instant,
Teeth, fur an' claws in a blur.
But Charlie just carried on walkin'
Then climbed up an' cleaned number four.

Bert 'ad gone into a frenzy,
An' gripped Charlies leg in 'is mouth.
But Charlie just carried on workin',
An' started t' scrim the next 'ouse.

One more attack an' it ended,
when Berts teeth fell out on the street.
An' the neighbours all cheered loud at Charlie,
As they lifted 'im 'igh off 'is feet.

Now Bert jus' sits quiet on the doorstep,
If a stranger walks by, 'e jus' looks.
Berts bitin' days are now over,
But I've 'eard 'e can give a bad suck.


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