Don't be sad,
Don't be pathetic;
I can't bear to see a woman cry;
It makes me want to thump her one.
Don't mope about your lost love;
I never did and I'm none the worse for it.

Better to get your gladrags on;
Go down to the city centre;
Pick yourself a decent bar;
Waggle your sweet little *** at someone;
Drag him home (or go off to his pad,
but that's risky as it may stink of old socks)
And enjoy what you have before it withers,
And you become as dry as a prune on Boxing Day.
That's what I told my sister anyway;
And she's as happy as Larry now with a bun in the oven
Even though she's on the ******* dole
(mind you, she's uglier than a fairground mule
and the ******* baby is no raving beauty
what with his withered arm and Pistorian stumps).