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Well I am old, and suffering
And gravely, deathly ill
So write this down, my muttering
I’ll dictate to you my will

I am not a poor man, but it’s
Few who’d call me kind
So maybe with my will I’ll change
Your heart and, yeah, your mind

To my dear old pal Tattoo Jack
Who never paid me back
That twenty quid to buy a Cuba
Libre and a snack

I leave a penny, little changed
By being up my bum
So you may spend it happily
On cola and on rum

Br. To the children that I never had
I leave my lazy side
To the lovers whom I didn’t love
I leave my foolish pride
To the smiling priests, ignoring grief
I leave my crushing doubt
Truly they have riches now
Though they are good for nowt

To my dear old chum Tom Farquar
Who borrowed once my car
And scratched the wing and didn’t tell
And then denied the scar

I leave said car, I know how he
Hates to ride the tube
Although it is my wish that first
It’s crushed into a cube

Br. To those I wronged, I leave a song
Of shame, that I was hasty
I learned too old, to warm the soul
And not to be so nasty
To them I feel that have wronged me
I lived but not forgot
May their cars, on summer days
Always run too hot

To my dear old friend Hanspeter Hyde
Who robbed me of my bride
And made me watch a whole lifetime
Her shining by his side

I leave my heart, to your safe keep
Though it’s broken like myself
The autopsy will be next week
You can put it on your shelf

To you my angel, sitting still
And taking down this will
If you would like my whole fortune
You must but get a pill

To bring me strength, and wooden length
Then it is in the bank
For I have now, a single wish:
A giddy goodbye wank


Capo 2
C Fmaj9 C Fmaj9 x2
Dm7 Bb9 Am7 G7
F C G7 C

F C G7 C x2
Dm7 Bb9 Am7 G7
F C G7 C


Small print

© 2020 Pete Beat. All Rights Reserved. Cover image “Wires” by James Loesch licensed under the Creative Commons 2.0 Attribution