| Lyrics |
i'm a part of the furniture, this boozer's my homei've been here forever, this barstool's my thronei'm drinking short whiskeys with a half pint of stouti smoke senior service or one of yours when i'm outand i'm always outthe women say i'm foul, the men say i'm harmlessi'm the source of entertainment and conversation tirelessthe vicar gives me sermons, the young ones give me cheekyou can read all about me in the bogs on high streeton high streetthese may seem like wasted yearsah, but the stories i could tellwhen these shoulders were broad and strongand i served my country welli'm not a picture of perfect healthbut i'm feeling no pain todayso you can fill my glass againand i'll grow old my own wayi've woke up near the barley fieldslike a sack on the side of the roadwith a belly full of drink,and a chill running through my bonesif i dropped dead tomorrow,you'd hear the righteous saythat iw as not a christian man,and i pissed my life awaythat's what they'd say-repeat first verse--chorus-
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