My bulldog is barking in the back yard
Enough to raise a dead man from his grave;
And I can't concentrate on what I'm doing,
Disturbance going to crucify my days.

And the days they get longer and longer,
And the night-time is a time of little use;
For I just get ugly and older,
I get juiced on Mateus and just hang loose.

And I get bombed for breakfast in the morning,
I get bombed for dinner-time and tea;
I dress in rags, smell a lot, and have a real good time,
I'm a genuine example of a Social Disease.

My landlady lives in a caravan,
Well, that is when she isn't in my arms,
And it seems I pay the rent in human kindness,
But my liquor also helps to grease her palm.

And the ladies are all getting wrinkles,
And they're falling apart at the seams,
While I just get high on tequila
And see visions of vineyards in my dreams.

And I get bombed for breakfast in the morning,
I get bombed for dinner time and tea.
I dress in rags, smell a lot, and have a heart of gold,
I'm a genuine example of a Social Disease.