Grafting Haddock in the George Half Man Half Biscuit

When I was young
And the blood pulsed swiftly through my veins
Before age trampling upon youth
Howled at my head with the sinews of 50 winters
I never thought about the future or what I would become
Didn't care, still don't
For as far as I'm aware
They don't stitch pockets into shrouds

Oh, those Forestry Commission roads
What a tale they could tell

I am the godfather of nothing whatsoever
Our Martin thought he was the town cheese
Purpoted to deal in short-term solutions for long-legged men
He also liked the sound of his own voice
He was at Knowsley Safari Park one day where he saw a monkey with a banana in one hand and a tin opener in the other
And he shouted over "Hey, you don't need the tin opener for that"
To which the monkey replied "It's for the custard, dickhead"
It was loft ladders what killed our Martin
Larry on the other hand cleans out the drains at the methodist centre and wears a permanent smile
He reckons a contended mind is a continual feast
When darkness falls, I am as happy as Larry

Sometimes I set out for Ludlow
Sometimes I end up in Chepstow