Baby,
I can't seem to open my eyes,
But I must get out of this bed
'Cause the phone keeps ringing downstairs,
And I know that this ain't no place for a sleepy head.
I go down to my chest.
Oh! Yer!
Put on my old string vest.
Swing it on, baby.
Well, I feel like I'm in need,
So I go back up for a smoke,
And then I slip back in my easy chair.
Then I give my lucky dog a stroke.
Well, he just gives me a wink,
And I know what that mean now.
Well, it mean that I need to put on his lead
If I don't want a mess on my cheap pan.
That's cool,
'Cause I know I can trust him
To grab the fuzz if they bust in.
Get him boy! Oh! Yer!
Well, what does it take
To make a jelly roll?
Who can you sell?
When I wake up to a grey day,
How do I ship away so easily?
Oh!
Baby!
Baby!
Well, I feel too old to get a hair cut,
And I ain't had a shave in months.
Now when I don't go out
I keep my door shut,
And I get on back to good old Beckton Dumps.
Drowning!
Now, warn ya!
I'll be right back!
I won't go there!

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): STEVE MARRIOTT