Bosom China Plate

8 Dec

I have a mate, he’s a lad I know since my Aberlour school days
He’s good stock, but an apple goes bad on it’s own in so many ways
I shouldn’t wonder what he’s on about, or query as I tend to do
He’s a good bloke, but I won’t give a toss if I have to give him the screw

He’s about as straight as a dog’s hind leg when he’s down to the boozer again
That’s where the lads go to chat up the birds and forget it like I must have done
I tell him I’ll shop him and call the old Bill, if I find him over the gate
He’ll get away with sod all but it’s still open to a debate
Over last nights neeps and tatties, it’s just me and my bosom china plate

Had a butcher’s hook about the place and those tea leaves cleaned us out
Running down the apples and pears to the Telford Roundabout
I was off to the pub to get in a row and tell him to go bugger off
But it weren’t his fault, and his thieving chaps left him nothing to do but scoff

We, funnily enough, found our stuff in the hock so I played the diplomat
Gave the keeper our tale and a few hundred quid, got most of it back to the flat
I still tell him the constable waits for my call if I find his thumb in the pie
But when a lad is a mate, it’s rare and it’s great and you keep ’em until you die

©2001-2010 brent david fraser, all rights reserved

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