Yesterday for my birthday,
I started off
with a bottle of wine...
I took the train
into town...
I had half a bitter
at the Cafe de Piaf
in Waterloo...
I went to work
for a couple of hours or so;
I had a pint after work;
I went for an audition;
after the audition,
I had another pint
and a half;
I had another half,
before meeting my mates,
for my b'day celebrations;
we had a pint together;
we went into
the night club,
where we had champagne
(I had three glasses);
I had a further
glass of vino,
by which time,
I was so gone
that I drew an audience
of about thirty
by performing a solo
dancing spot
in the middle
of the disco floor...
We all piled off to the pub
after that,
where I had another drink
(I can't remember
what it was)...
I then made my way home,
took the bus from Surbiton,
but ended up
in the wilds of Surrey;
I took another bus home,
and watched some telly,
and had something to eat
before crashing out...
I really, really enjoyed
the eve, but today,
I've been walking around
like a zomb;
I've had only one drink today,
an early morning
restorative effort;
I spent the day working,
then I went to a bookshop,
where, like a monk,
I go for a day's
drying out session...
Drying out is really awful;
you jump at every shadow;
you feel dizzy,
you notice everything;
very often,
I don't follow through.

Mr George once lived in a large Georgian house ,
before the factory’s were built In this Surbiton town .
Back for tea at seven every night ,
after discussins   with the wise the bad and the good .


But for Mr George and his beautiful wife ,
and his clockwork life ,
in his well to do manor soon packed their bags ,
to leave their new home
With all their clocks on carts they all  moved away ,
With a clipperty clop and a bag of hay ,
goodbye to Georgian Town as  they moved
far far away .

Soon the houses came and the factories and railways too  
so the little house saw ,
Instead of green trees all around ,
coal and industry were  its only sound .
Gone were the cows and fields of green ,
now new houses were built ,
out of his window now were seen .
For a King had died and time moved  on .

And so the landowner subletted the little house ,
to many families when the foremen moved out .

And more and more what ever the cost ,
and so our little house was feeling quite lost .

The noise of the factory smelt iron and Cole ,
the thick black smoke.
The many people who came and went ,
and no one cared for the stench and the mud ,
that was left .

One privy  now for twenty or more ,
all crying and screaming on his now filthy floor .

So the rats and vermin moved in as well ,
and how he remembed his happy home ,
of mr George a family man with his clocks and wife ,
and his o so happy life .