Now my old man had an appetite
He could really pack it in
'Cause no one bothered with telling him
That gluttony was a sin
He could polish off an 'ole roast pig
From the trotters to the snout
And that was just for starters
'Cause then you'd hear him shout:
'Gimme one, gimme two, gimme three dinners
Gimme three dinners or four
Gimme five, gimme six, gimme seven dinners
And I'll still have room for more!
Gimme eight, gimme nine, gimme ten
And if my belly starts to hurt
Then I'll say when and stop at ten
And I'll move on to dessert!'
Now my old man was a lonely soul
He weren't to everyone's taste
He found it hard to find a girl
With his 98-inch waist
But then one day he met his match
With Bertha from up west
She claimed she'd out-eat any man
So they put it to the test:
I said,
'Gimme one, gimme two, gimme three dinners
Gimme three dinners or four
Gimme five, gimme six, gimme seven dinners
And I'll still have room for more!
Gimme eight, gimme nine, gimme ten
And if I have to stop, I will
'Cause the one who eats the least
Can start with picking up the bill!'
Now my old man said, 'Son,
I can't keep gorging every day.
My feet won't stop complaining
And gawd knows what I weigh!'
This terrible sad affliction
It got him in the end:
He drew a breath and choked to death
On an 'alf-sucked fisherman's friend
Gimme one, gimme two, gimme three dinners
Gimme three dinners or four
Gimme five, gimme six, gimme seven dinners
And I'll still have room for more!
Gimme eight, gimme nine, gimme ten
He had the last laugh on us all
'Cause to get the coffin in the church
We had to take down 'alf the wall
Now if your old man's a gannet
You'll know it ain't much fun
When your dad exhales and he tips the scales
To the tune of 'alf a ton!
Oi!