I was workin’ all the night,
It really was quite shite,
At the Crystal Palace dreary Seven-Eleven,
When this big and hairy dude,
Said, please give to me some food,
I’m dead and going to my own private heaven.
He ate a whole meat pie,
Two pastrami served on rye,
And mealy puddin’ sandwich with all trimmin’s,
A flagon full of ale,
That fucker was on sale,
And jar of Russian vodka with fresh limmons.
I said you pack away,
An awful lot of hay,
And eat a lot for someone who’s deceased,
He said, they shot me full o’ lead,
There’s a hole right in my head,
But my appetite, it’s really quite increased.
I said, I feel your pain,
But you’re drivin’ me insane,
So sling yer hook, get lost, vacate the premises,
He said, see you in hell,
You’ll know me by my smell,
And that is how I met my earthly Nemesis