My ship has sailed before me
As I write line after line
The task I’ll never master
Is these words that sort of rhyme
My heart was badly broken
You mended it so fine
It’s harder to write sad songs
With a love like yours and mine
Aspire to retire
My dream is in the bin
I’ll sing in peace as my release
From madness setting in
My grit is in an oyster
My beer is in a glass
What happened to the fashion
of the working class moustache?