| Lyrics: | Sup up, lad, I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat
Than you've supped
tonight.
Bonnington's or Willy's lads?
Willy's tastes like piss.
I've got ten
pints down me neck the night,
He's blown some froth off his.
Now I've got to leave room
for me chips,
So twenty pints is fine,
Hey you, you poof, you fucking cunt,
Get off
that pint, it's mine.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's every Friday night.
Twenty pints
of Bonnington's then we're outside for a fight.
You think you're one of the Macc Lads?
You
look a bloody sight.
'Cos I've spilt more ale down me waistcoat,
Than you've supped
tonight.
Peter.
And we'll all go down Limmoge's after closing time,
Hey you,
you poof, you fucking cunt,
Get off that crack it's mine.
Twenty pints of
Bonnington's every Friday night.
Twenty pints of Bonnington's then we're outside for a
fight.
You think you're one of the Macc Lads?
You're too fucking tight.
'Cos I've
spilt more ale down me waistcoat,
Than you've supped tonight.
'Cos I've spilt more ale
down me waistcoat,
Than you've supped tonight |
