I have fallen far they do tell me
Hell’s doom they have forecast.
Well, let them chatter over their tea
There may be no future, but my, what a past!
On Saturday night I’m their pet.
“None is better” and none more true!
But on Sunday morning – we’ve never met -
As they take a place on a pew!
I’ve fallen far they do tell me.
One of Hell’s unfortunate doves.
Settled and married I should be;
A husband and child my sole loves.
Well, ladies, lift your glasses high!
Stand tall in face of all who sneer.
Ladies, we know the truth;
They all wish they were here!
So whirl me around the floor lad;
Pour more wine in my fancy fine shoe.
You’ll leave here not thinking me bad.
Hell’s hot but there’s still room for you!