I always liked the horses, I still do to this day,
I never bet too much, just a couple of bob each way.
A young lad he placed my bets, son o' the folk next door,
To get Thatcher re-elected, he was killed in the Falklands war.
My sister always kept in touch, wi' a card at Chriatmas time,
She was due one from the Queen herself, made it through to ninty-nine,
But then she lost the will to live, her heart it did expire,
When she lost her grandson in the Gulf, victim o' some "friendly fire".
I'm living on the pension now .......
love, john.