Smackney Hounds

Well gambling Graham’s back A night out with the lads He’s got one in the bag For 300 pounds a shag It’s 5 am again But Graham’s not ashamed He’s happy to explain As he starts another game The staff all know him by his name The friendly face of the arcade Now in the all night caf Cleanshirt is on the attack His hand slides down her back She responds quick with a slap And as Graham passes by Takes it all in through his eyes But for him it’s no surprise Just your average Thursday night The sleaze and magic all aligns It’s lubricants; cocaine and wine Spilling out into the street Alex gets up to his feet Takes the first two blokes he meets To his flat for spiced rum neat The place is empty for the night Spacious, clean and very bright But he’s too pissed to be polite Explains how much he hates his wife Divulging sexual appetite His guests are gone before it’s light Oh! The only place they know To drink when everywhere’s closed Is the grosvenor casino To Graham’s favourite haunt they go From the balcony they watch While he drinks and scratches his crotch Slowly chips away at the pot Before leaving with his escort At home they share a bottle of port Girlfriend experience and more… But in the morning he feels sore At least he’s not bored…