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My Old Man's A Dustman

My Old Man's a dustman
And it really doesn't suit me
Listen to my sorry tale,
I'm sure you won't refute me.
'Cause when I need my Old Man
For a shag or just a slash
My Old Man is down your way
Disposing of your trash.

Early in the morning
When I wake up with the horn
My Old Man's been round the streets
Since the crack of dawn.
He empties all the wheelie bins
And loads them on the truck.
But that's no good to me now
When I'm trying to have a fuck.

Now I'm not one to stand in
The way of his career.
But how I really hate it
When I find he isn't here.
At times when I am bursting
And the pressure's on my bladder,
That's when I need my Old Man
Instead of getting madder.

I wish that he could find a job
Where he could work from home
Instead of being out all day
Where on the streets he'll roam.
Some say I shouldn't moan so much
And ought to be more lenient,
But my Old Man's a dustman
And it's bloody inconvenient.

Mike Stools (b. 1962)