Remember that bromide they put in our tea
To keep us from thinking ‘bout lasses
To keep us from thinking our wild sinful thoughts
From hairs on our palms, wearing glasses.
Well now I’ve got news for their lordships
Their venture was not a success
There was’nt a morning that I did’nt wake
Just raring to go I confess
With others around me, be—moaning their fate
Limp organs, a motley selection
There stood young Mick in arrogant pride
Displaying a healthy erection
So it has been, since those war—ridden years
I’ve never begged any girl’s pardon
For failing to rise to the matter in hand
I’v e always come with a ha~rd—on
But now anno—domini’ s taking it’s toll
From coitus I seem to be shirking
‘cause now lam doomed to a celibate life
That bromide is bloody well working.
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