The scope is endless really isn't it?
In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprentice to a trade I was bound,
Turning my hand to carpentry
In a workshop in the centre of town.
Now every day around lunchtime,
The boss man, old Johnny Moore,
Would disappear for an hour or so
To the guest house located next door.
He knew the proprietor for many's the year.
Mary Magee was her name;
But the nature and conduct of her business
Would bring Belfast town into shame.
She rents out her rooms by the hour,
And her customers' names she won't mention.
She gives bank holiday specials to navvys,
And discounts to those on the pension.
And her knockers hang down to her kneecaps,
A figure of beauty, it has to be said;
With flowing black hair down her lily-white back,
And not one single strand on her head.
One day whilst goin' home early,
Waitin' for me bus ride,
I had an hour or two that I could kill.
I took a deep breath and ventured inside.
"It's 50 quid for an hour,
But I'm not really sure that you ought."
How I wished to blow all me wages that night,
But the bastard had left me a bit short.
"I'm only a hard-up apprentice.
I've got 10 quid and not any more."
She said, "that's fine by me, my dear.
For that price, I'll show you my DOOR."
Well I left the place broken-hearted,
My face all down-turned and sour.
Now I'll never know what a man can do
In a guest house inside of an hour.
I have way, way, way to much time on my hands. This thread is heading song challenge way.