The Mourning After the Night Before

“Knock, knock” “Who’s there?” I haven’t a clue What day is it? Who’s at my door? “Here is some breakfast I made just for you” Says some stranger who slept on my floor The sight of the eggs and the bacon and tea Turns my stomach inside upside down Migraine’s the price that I’ve paid for the glee Of a banging night out on the town “‘Ere, it’s New Year, do you fancy a beer?” “No thanks, mate, I’m feeling quite rough” I may have blacked out after midnight I fear But now I’m…remembering…Stuff Slowly but surely it’s coming to mind As glimpses emerge from the fog Of a twist and a twerk and a bump and a grind And my new Christmas phone down the bog I thought I was hot but in retrospect not In the morning light nowt could be plainer And that I remember I like not a jot My naked and drunk Macarena Oh me and my mates, we do get in a state And last year we gave it some welly But if anyone had not enough on their plate We’d do onesies and pizza and telly My mates are my life, we’re a pretty tight bunch They’re alright, mate, they’re really all right But last night I must have been well out to lunch For I reckon I started a fight… It was something to do with a girl I once knew And a joke that she did stuff for money And a fine upper cut in the queue for the loo Well, I thought the punch line was funny Oh, what’s in my pockets, this isn’t my coat As I’m clearly not Super or Dry And what are the words that are writ on this note ‘Bell me, baby, you’re totally fly’ And I’m going commando, hilarious bants Will be had in regards to my loss Much mirth to be had from the sight of my pants On the top of the Market Cross It’s not looking good, and tucked in to my hood Are two gherkins all wrapped in a bra Half a kebab and a squashed Christmas pud And a wing mirror nicked from a car I think I’m experiencing chemical guilt And at some point I’ll have to atone But right now I’m going to hide under my quilt Crying blubbery tears for my phone by Gail