The Larrikin
I remember this bloke I knew,
He was a wirey looking fellow...
He seemed to be rough as guts,
But his heart was soft as jello...
He was always up before sunrise,
He’d be champing at the bit...
No sleeping in with him around,
This noisy little twit...
He liked to drink his fill our beer,
Each and every day...
He’d be perched upon that stool,
Putting many beers away...
They all knew him at the local,
With that iconic little wink...
He was always known,
As that bloke who likes to drink...
And if there was a yarn to tell,
He knew he was the best...
His eyes would roll around,
His hands move east and west...
He’d like to take a punt,
On the local T.A.B...
10 quid on the nose,
Is what it’s gunna be...
He was a lucky little bloke,
Although he was no millionaire...
He reckons what he won and lost,
By now would make him square...
Now it’s a bloody shame,
There aren't more around like him...
To fill the place with laughter,
When those day's are grim...
Len Newey 2013