MY BREECHES HAVE ITCHES ( two drunken songs)

they're not silver 

they're now black

as the water in my wine

has weakened my blood

and the flood of new tears

has enhanced all my fears

'cos she's back.

That witch in disguise

with those wonderful eyes

that seduce,

a Medusa, 

she'll grip my agenda,

I'll undo her suspender.

we go at it hammer and thongs,

all the bats in my belfry fly out,

and she leaves with a saucy big pout

saying "I'll be back soon 

so don't run the saloon

I'll return next to burn off your pants,

take your money my honey, 

my honey bunny." 

but she's all made of mean

and I'm now so obscene

that my friends pass me by

in the street,

I'm a rag of society,

a freak.

Oh my breeches have itches

when I'm in the discotec

witches and stitches go pop

as I hop up and down

while the lights go around

and I'm fizzy and fuzzy

my mind in a tank of warm beer

feeling slowly more queer

yes more queer

Zing bang boom boom

the ceilings the floor

the shape of the room 

is a shape no more

just a bubble of trouble in store

oh 'god' what a wiggle 

that girl in the middle 

is doing I'd better sit down 

or I'll find going round's my undoing

yes whisky so frisky my brain needs a whisky

and BANG!

I'll get up when I can 

if I can

zzzzzzzzzzz!