by Peter Wyllie My job as a toilet attendant Is one I am proud to have done. The role was passed down in the family, From grandfather, on to his son From father, it came as it should do, To me as his son and his heir And I have been faithful in service Fulfilling my tasks with all care! But how things have changed in my lavvy They're just not the same as before! If I tell you what happens here daily You'll think I am lying, I'm sure. The drunks after drinking their lager Come in just to pee up the walls They leave all my lovely clean tiling Just looking like Niagara falls! We get our fair share of the perverts Who loiter around in the dark Some strange politician from Wales Who thinks it's a bit of a lark! And then there's the druggies and crack-heads Intent upon getting a kick They fill up the toilets with needles Quite frankly it makes me feel sick! So when someone comes in the toilet (As some people do, to be fair) And uses it, as it s intended, Then it is a breath of fresh air!
The end