Beginning early afternoon

(She says you cannot start too soon)

But not yet to some rough saloon

Cos that would be remiss

But rather have a few shots in

At home with probably some gin

“Why pay money?” she will grin

She'll soon be on the piss.

 

But then a taxi into town

(That's Muggins here – I'm the clown

That drives her so she won't fall down -

Cos she's got form for this);

She's blamed wet steps, she's blamed her shoes

All sorts of reasons she has used

But never, ever blamed the booze

When she's been on the piss.

 

Accompanied by Stef and Sam

That's daughter, friend and daughter's mam

There's one of mutton, two of lamb;

Best give all three a miss;

They've got a plan, so here's the rub

First off they fill up with grub

Then some cheap and sleazy pub

Beware! They're on the piss.

 

No time for chat, they sally forth

And find beside the river's wharf

The Bridge and then at Tileyard North

They start to reminisce;

The Woodman might be their next stop

Six Chimneys and The Polka Hop

“The Black Boy does a decent drop”

Our Gert is on the piss.

 

Blokes might all be tanked up with beer

But watch them shuffling, cowed with fear

Once they see Our Gert get near

And wants a Christmas kiss;

Word spreads like wildfire round the bar

“Sup up quick, lads; drain your jar”

You might think this is quite bizarre

But Our Gert is on the piss.

 

Onward into Wetherspoon's

The Black Swan and then Henry Boon's

Bellies now like party balloons

Not yet at the abyss;

From now on though it's all downhill

Four boozy hours of slop and spill

The three of them have had their fill

Once Gert's been on the piss.

 

“Where's that bit of paper gone

With the taxi's number on?

Silly me! I'll phone my John”

(The joys of wedded bliss);

Thirsts are slaked, their bellies grown

Each one's put on half a stone

Time to wend their way back home

Our Gert's been on the piss.