SAT'DAY NEET FEVER

LYRICS

Pint Fever

Lyrics: Andy Doonican / Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

I’ve only got ten pounds, but there’s boozin’ all ararnd

If there’s summat goin’ darn, it’s beer, and I’ll drink it

On the way to the club, we’ll be hittin’ ev’ry pub

All the lasses stop n’ stare, ‘cos we look reight fit

 

And that sweet Barnsley barmaid,

She moves through the pub

Controllin’ me mind and me cash

When you reach art for me lass, and you pass me me pint

 

I get pint fever, pint fever,

And we know how to drink it

Got that pint fever, pint fever,

Drunk and I’m gonna show it

 

Here I am, prayin’ that me lager will last

Dining on the music so fine,

The curry’s givin’ me wind

But this pint is mine!       

 

At our local pub, they also serve some decent grub

But I’ve only got enough to get drunk til t’mornin’

I’ve got fire in me loins, and a pocketful o’ coins

And I’m bustin’ better moves than Stephen Hawking

 

And that sweet Barnsley barmaid,

She moves through the pub

Controllin’ me mind and me cash

When you reach art for me lass and you pass me me pint

 

I get pint fever, pint fever,

In the mornin’ I’ll be shattered

But we’ve got pint fever, pint fever,

And we’re gonna get so bladdered

(Worse than we’ve ever done before)

 

And theer’s ‘ar lass, hopin’ that I’m goin’ to last

‘cos I’ve gone and drunk me’sen blind

And I just wanna sleep ‘cos it’s past me bedtime

 

I get pint fever, pint fever,

And we know how to drink it

Got that pint fever, pint fever

Drunk and I’m gonna show it

(Drink like we’ve never drunk before)

 

 

Stalking On Facebook

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

I don’t know if you love me or hate me, I’m really not sure

But since you went and found me on Facebook,

I’ve been locking me doors

‘cos every time I go to me inbox

Your message is found

With a picture of you in me tank-top

And your trousers down

 
You’re stalking on Facebook, oh no

You’re stalking on Facebook, oh no

Don’t stalk me on Facebook, oh no

‘cos you’re up to no good

 

You comment on all of my photos and statuses too

You’re pretending you’re Deirdre from Goldthorpe

But I know that it’s you

‘cos you know what I’ve done, where I’m going,

What day, at what time

But now that you’ve poked me

That’s just where I’m drawing the line

 
You’re stalking on Facebook, oh no

You’re stalking on Facebook, oh no

Don’t stalk me on Facebook, oh no

‘cos you’re up to no good

 

I dun’t feel the love, I’ve had enough

Stop stalking me and bugger off

I dun’t feel the love, I’ve had enough

Stop stalking me and bugger off

‘cos I’m on to you sunshine, wo-woah

I’m on to you sunshine, wo-woah

I’m on to you sunshine, wo-woah

And now you’ve been blocked

 

 

I Fought The Lawn

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White / Dave Taylor

 

Ar’ lass med me go and do the garden

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

She said “Just have some patience!”, but I’ve got none

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

 

So I’m stuck art in the garden and it looks reight bad

We’ve got mole hills the size of King Kong

Then I run ovver the wire,

Now the mower’s dead and gone

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

 

So she left me with the strimmer in the hot sun

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

It looks thinner than Yul Brynner now that I’ve done

I fought the lawn and the lawn, now we’ve got none

I fought the lawn and the lawn’s gone

 

I missed watchin’ t’telly and I’m reight dischuffed

‘cos she’ll ‘ave switched Nigella off

If she’s sat theer watchin' Ground Force…

It’s goin’ to kick off

‘cos I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn and the lawn won

‘cos I fought the lawn and the lawn won

I fought the lawn… now the lawn’s gone!

 

 

Viva Skeg-Vegas

Lyrics: Andy Doonican / Scott Doonican

 

Bright light Skeggy goin’ art toneet

I’m gonna set this tarn on fire

Got a bit o’ money that I’m ready to burn
So get me a pint now, squire

‘cos there’s a thousand loose women

That are waitin’ art there
And they’re drinking pints of devil may care
And I’m just a Doonican letting darn me hair
In Viva Skeg-Vegas, Viva Skeg-Vegas

 

How I wish that there were more
Than twenty-four hours in the day
‘cos even if there were twenty-four more
You know I wouldn’t sleep a minute away
‘cos there’s a Butlin’s, a shitty beach and 99’s here

And a dozen scabby donkey’s that have got diarrhea

And it’s allus bad if you catch crabs on the pier
In Viva Skeg-Vegas, Viva Skeg-Vegas

 

Viva Skeg-Vegas wi’ your illuminations flashin’
And yer penny slots a-crashin’
All my money darn the drain
Viva Skeg-Vegas, drinkin’ day into nighttime
Drinkin’ night into daytime
If you drink theer once, you’ll never be the same again

 

I’m goin’ for me stag-do and I’m gonna get stewed

I’m gonna get art of me mind
If end up skint then I’ll allus remember

That we had uzselves a reight good time
 

And I’m gonna drink all the beer they’ve got
‘cos that’s the only thing that’s gonna hit the spot

Let me shart art for a pint just to wash darn ev’ry shot

In Viva Skeg-Vegas, Viva Skeg-Vegas, Viva Skeg-Vegas,

Viva, viva Skeg-Vegas
 

 

Portaloo

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

Oh my, the portaloos are absolutely mingin’

Oh yeah, but I have had three days of holdin’ it all in

And I know not pooing is bad for your health

But it’s better than shitting yourself

 

Portaloo, the festival food’s med me bum so sore

Portaloo, I’ve queued up and now I can’t shut the door

Portaloo, no amount of wet-wipes are gonna do

Portaloo, like Russian Roulette, I’m not trying you

Woah woah woah woah portaloo

There’s no way I’m facing the portaloo

 

Oh my, I tried to block the smell but it was stronger

Oh God, there’s no loo-roll, there’s no lights or santiser for me hands

It was dark, I was drunk, now I’m blue

‘cos I’ve piddled all over me shoes

 

Portaloo, no way to predict what you’ve got in store

Portaloo, what horrible things lurk behind your door?

Portaloo, I wish that yer contents were out of view

Portaloo, thought it was a fart, but I followed through

Woah woah woah woah portaloo

There’s no way I’m facing the portaloo

 

I hope this horrible feeling goes off

‘cos I’m desperate and I’m touching cloth

 

Portaloo, I’ve been defeated, you won the war

Portaloo, what dirty get’s done one on the floor

Portaloo, the smell inside here, it’s like Chester Zoo

Portaloo, having to squat for a Number 2

Woah woah woah woah portaloo

Finally facing the portaloo

Woah woah woah woah portaloo

I’m never embracing the portaloo

 

 

Jehovah’s To Call

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

Here we stand in the hall,

Pretending we’re not there at all

They ring the bell, look for a light,

But no bugger’s opening up tonight

They don’t waste no time at all;

Foot in t’door as you answer their call

They’ll come to you as to us all,

We’re just waiting for the Jehovah’s to call

 

From morning light, through every day

A bunch of people could be calling your way

Maybe the postie, or Avon lady,

The window-cleaner or the bloke from next door

They’ll knock you up just to explain

And hope their magazines will cover it all

With their message to proclaim

You know it’s time for the Jehovah’s to call

 

They really dun’t like knock-knock jokes

‘cos they claim that it’s The Truth

So dun’t slam your door when they come calling,

Just invite ‘em for a brew

‘cos I’ll tell thee nar they wain’t know what to do!

 

They can bray reight loud ‘til their hands are sore

What the bloody hell they doin’ it for?

With half a chance, they’ll leave The Watchtower

Like Larry Grayson, I’ll be shutting that door

What’re we behind the sofa for?

We’re on the inside, they’re behind the front door

You’ve just got time to say your prayers

While you’re waiting for the Jehovah’s to call

 

 

Eaten Alive

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

Well you can tell by the way I can hardly walk

I’ve been bitten theer, no time to talk

I’ve got prickly heat and I’m feeling warm

I’ve been dined on by a chuffin’ swarm

I’m not alright, I’m not okay

A tube of cream wain’t save the day

At least you can start to understand

Why I’m looking like the Elephant Man

 

Whenever I’m on holiday, in the night

I’m allus getting eaten alive, eaten alive

Feel the buggers biting me

In places that they shouldn’t be

Been eaten alive, eaten alive

 

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive, eaten alive

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive

 

I’ve been bitten so low that my voice is high

And if it swells much more I’m gonna cry

Me plums are the size of the south of France

I’ve got no ants in me pants, but I’ve got to dance

They itch like mad, I’m reight pigged off

They even hurt when I try to cough

I asked the doctor t’other day

“Can you leave the swelling, but tek the pain away?”

 

Whenever I’m on holiday, in the night

I’m allus getting eaten alive, eaten alive

Feel the buggers biting me

In places that they shouldn’t be

Eaten alive, eaten alive

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive, eaten alive

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive

 

(Odd looks from the people on the dance-floor)

 

The swelling’s going nowhere,

Somebody help me, somebody help me

The mossies think I’m dinner,

Somebody help me, somebody help me

I’ve been eaten alive

 

Won’t be repelled, won’t let me be

I try to hide but they still find me

I’ve sprayed the room, I’ve sprayed me skin

I’ve got a net ararnd me keks but they still get in

 

Whenever I’m on holiday, in the night

I’m allus getting eaten alive, eaten alive

Feel the buggers biting me

In places that they shouldn’t be

Eaten alive, eaten alive

 

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive, eaten alive

Ah, ah, ah, ah, eaten alive

 

 

 ‘elp!

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

 

‘elp! I need somebody

‘elp! Christ, send me anybody

‘elp! you know I need someone

‘elp!

 

When I was art rarnd Tarn at neet last Saturday

I never thought that I’d be needing ‘elp in anyway

My poor old liver cried from the pain that it endured

I got so blind, I were art o’ me mind,

And I fell darn on the floor

 

‘elp me if you can ‘cos I’ve fallen darn

But the drunks art on the street just walked ararnd

Just ‘elp me get my feet back on the ground

Won’t you please, please ‘elp me

 

And how the Tarn has changed in oh so many ways

I was helped by some pensioners

Who’d been on Songs of Praise

They said we’re street pastors,

We’ll pray for where you’re sore

They helped me up, and give me watter to sup

And they ‘elped me off of the floor

 

They’ll ‘elp you if they can when you’re face darn

In a puddle of your own sick when you’re in t’Tarn

They may look like the audience members on Countdown

But in Jesus’ name will help thee

 

When I went art last neet I saw ‘em yet again

They gave some flip-flops to a lass who was in pain

Her high-heeled shoes had left her feet in agony

She couldn’t walk, but they sat and talked

About God’s guarantee

 

That He’ll help you if He can when you fall darn

Or even if you’ve gone berserk and had ten rounds

Bringing prayers and watter to the drunks in Tarn

And they’ll lend a hand to ‘elp thee, ‘elp thee, ‘elp thee

 

 

The Fight For The Tea Rooms

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

Lining up, out on the street

It teks some time to mek advances

Queued some distance

Christ I’m three streets away

Just a bloke with a throat that’s bone dry

Waste the day; nothing moves fast

I’ve got a passion for Earl Grey

Don’t lose your grip as the cream teas go past

You must fight for a table inside

 

It’s the queue for the Tea Rooms, it’s the thrill of the fight

Linin’ up for espressos, buns and trifles

And you’re waitin’ for Betty’s, you could wait until night

Whilst she’s rakin’ it in with the queue… for the Tea Rooms

 

Face to face, they beckon you in

You tell the waiter you’re hungry

Look darn the menu and you notice the price

How the hell does this business survive?

 

It’s the queue for the Tea Rooms, it’s the thrill of the fight

Linin’ up for espressos, buns and trifles

And you’re waitin’ for Betty’s, you could wait until night

Whilst she’s rakin’ it in with the queue… for the Tea Rooms

 

The anger’s rising up, you could blow your top

A tenner spent on a cuppa

You’ve gone the distance, now you’re calling the shots

No posh nosh, I’ve a will to imbibe

 

I want four pints of Stella and a plate of pork pies

I want fish and chips with mushy peas and gravy

And I dun’t want yer bun tray and yer doilies are shite

Stick it right up yer arse with the queue… for your tea rooms

 

 

The Lady In Greggs

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

I’ve nivver seen your baps

Look as lovely as they did tonight

They looked tasty, wholemeal and white

I’ve nivver known a lass

Who really knew the way to a man’s heart

A gorgeous muffin and a good lookin’ tart

And I have never seen quite a dressing

As the stuff you’re packing into that baguette

You’ve got me in a sweat

 

The Lady in Greggs, she meks pasties for me through the week

And when she meks sausage rolls I forget how to speak

She’s really got technique

And I can’t resist her steak bakes on the side

I’ll nivver forget the super snap that she supplied

 

Nivver had a BLT taste as gorgeous as it did tonight

Tonsils tingling with savo’ry delight, and smokey bacon

I’ve nivver seen a chocolate éclair

With such a creamy inside

And then I turn to you and smile

‘cos it teks me breath away

And I’ve nivver had such a feeling

The feeling that I’m well and truly stuffed,

But I’m satisfied

 

The Lady in Greggs, she meks pasties for me through the week

And with muffins so moist, my knees just go weak

They really are unique

And I am so sure, her goods they won’t turn stale

I’ll nivver forget the gorgeous grub she’d got on sale

 

 

(Alan Lost His Wig On) Route 66

Lyrics: Scott Doonican / Amanda White

 

When Alan went to conquer the US

He took the highway, which was meant to be the best

But lost his wig on route sixty-six.

In a campervan, he set off from Frisco Bay

More than two thousand miles all the way.

He lost his wig on Route Sixty-Six.

 

Well he stopped off in Jackson to get him some action

No need for hairspray… some bugger pinched his toupee

So he spent the next fortneet looking art for his thatch

He wandered so wigless, looking for a witness

Who may have seen the rug-rustling smugglers…

It’s a crime, only a lowlife could commit

And without it, Alan wasn’t looking so hip

They pinched his wig on Route Sixty-Six.

 

He then asked the police if they’d found his hairpiece

But they couldn’t release the names of the hair thieves

The Chief said to Alan, “We’ll get the force on the case

From Vegas to Reno, we’ll ask if they’ve seen owt

We’ll check every rest room from San Bernadino”

And with that, the wig hunt was underway

There were SWAT teams and patrol cars all the way

Tracking darn his wig on Route Sixty-Six

 

The cops stopped a trucker who wasn’t a looker

But when they looked nearer it all became clearer

He was bald as a duck egg

And was wearing Alan’s rug on top

Trying to cross the border, he was really out of order

They slammed on the cuffs and took him off to prison

And with that, the wig-hunt was at an end

Alan reunited with his long lost friend

They found his wig on Route Sixty-Six

 

 

Queasy

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

 

It’s really not funny, you know I can’t stand the pain

I had a rough neet on the Cointreau

I supped the Stella and t’Guinness darn like a drain

Should’ve left that pint of Pernod

 

That’s why I’m queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

I’m feelin’ queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

 

Why on Earth did I polish-off all of that garlic bread

I woke up wi’ me face darn in t’toilet

No Alka-Seltzer’s gonna fix my throbbing head

It’s like a barrelful of brokken biscuits         

 

That’s why I’m queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

I’m feelin’ queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

 

Can’t face owt that’s fried, oooh me insides

I wanna be left alone until I feel alright

I need a big cup o’ tea, yeah that’ll do me

 

That’s why I’m queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

I’m feelin’ queasy

Queasy on Sunday morning

 

 

Campervan Of Love

Lyrics: Scott Doonican

 

Are you ready? Are you ready?

Are you ready? Are you ready?

Are you ready for the ride of your life?

He’s been from Barnsley to Fife

He’s alright, he’s alright

He’s our dad he drove a campervan

Between shows for his fans

One by one or maybe two at a time

They’d form an orderly line

With hands up, hands up

Couldn’t be accused of stooping low

He wore on his knitwear sleeve a heart of gold

 

Now all the ladies in the crowd would see

No better place on Earth to be

A place where backseats were worn

So neglected and torn apart

 

Every knitwear lovin’ fan got on his campervan of love

‘Ey up! ‘Ey up! ‘Ey up!

All the lasses in the land, rode on his campervan of love

‘Ey up! ‘Ey up! ‘Ey up!

 

He’s our father, had me mother dun’t you know

All the sisters, were so mad for it dun’t you know

 

They run their fingers through his sexy hair

While he rocked them gently in his chair

They’d come in art from the cold

And then wait for his engine to start

 

As he toured around the land, they’d get on his campervan of love

‘Ey up! ‘Ey up! ‘Ey up!

Got it more than Russell Brand, aboard his campervan of love

‘Ey up! ‘Ey up! ‘Ey up!

 

He’s our father, different mothers dun’t you know

All the sisters, queued up to see him after show

 

Are you ready? Are you ready?

Are you ready? Are you ready?

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© All lyrics copyright of Moon-On-A-Stick Records 

© 2019 The Bar-Steward Sons of  Val Doonican. All Rights Reserved.

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