Don’t Marry Her The Beautiful South

[Verse 1]
Think of you with pipe and slippers
Think of her in bed
Laying there just watching telly
Think of me instead

I'll never grow so old and flabby
That could never be
Don't marry her, fuck me

[Verse 2]
And your love light shines like cardboard
But your work shoes are glistening
She's a PhD in "I told you so"
You've a knighthood in "I'm not listening"

She'll grab your sweaty bollocks
Then slowly raise her knee
Don't marry her, fuck me

[Chorus]
And the Sunday sun shines down on San Francisco Bay
And you realise you can't make it anyway
You have to wash the car
Take the kiddies to the park
Don't marry her, fuck me