An Irishman’s Diet

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An Irishman's Diet 
Oh I never drink beer on a Monday 
that's the day I look after me health,  
And me wife's got me counting the calories, 
cause I have to Look after myself. 
So I only have wine with me supper, 
a litre or two that͛s okay. 
Then a large Irish coffee and a strong whiskey Toddy, 
and I call that my sensible day. 
 
But I never drink wine on a Tuesday, 
cause Tuesday͛s my weight watching club, 
just a big feed of bacon and cabbage, 
cos that is my favourite grub. 
On a diet you need plenty of fluid, 
something that's light and fat free, 
so I choose to drink American Lager, 
and I have five pints with me Tea(m). 
 
But I never drink lager on Wednesdays, 
on that day I go for a jog, 
in me tracksuit and runners at midday, 
then I am off down the road with me dog. 
And me first stops the pub for some Guinness, 
3 swift ones to get me to grips, 
then I carry on round to me local, 
for 3 more and a burger and chips. 
 
But I never drink Guinness on Thursdays, 
cos Thursday͛s me day to relax. 
So I sit in the sun in the garden, 
in me vest and me socks and me slacks, 
after lunch I might stroll by the river 
and into the bar there I͛ll drop. 
For a chat and a packet of tayto, 
washed down by eight Alcopops. 
And because I've behaved through the day like 
while the wife is out playing Bridge, 
my evenings spent watching the football, 
I got 5 six packs in the fridge. 
 
But I never drink six packs on Friday, 
cause Friday͛s me night on the Razz, 
and we meet in the local at seven, 
sure I love a night out with the lads. 
And the local's a beer drinker's heaven 
they've 20 or more beers to try 
And when I've got through only half of them 
I already starting to fly. 
By midnight were all talking rubbish, 
so we head for a curry down town, 
But I shouldn't be touching those Curries, 
cause I never can keep that stuff down. 
And the waitress is cute and she's friendly 
and we share a good laugh and a joke, 
then I'm hope for me night full of passion, 
cause I'm a passionate bloke. 
 
And I never do much on a Saturday, 
'cos that's me day for a think, 
And a wife and me are not speaking 
she says I'm a drunken fat pig and I stink. 
And later I make a decision 
on me 43rd trip to the bog. 
There's only one cure for a sore head 
and that's the hair of the dog. 
So I ring up the lads on me mobile 
and they're also feeling the pain, 
so we're back in the pub by a quarter to eight 
and we do it all over again. 
 
I don't mention the pub on a Sunday, 
cause Sunday's me day to repent, 
I'm ashamed of meself and the Pilsen 
and of all the money I've spent. 
So I beg the wife for forgiveness 
and promise to alter my way. 
And you gives me a kiss and a cuddle 
just like on our wedding day. 
 
So we settle to watch something on telly, 
with a nice pot of tea and some cakes, 
but there's only old crap on the TV 
and I'd rather be out with me mates. 
So I have a quick walk ͚round the village 
and bump into my old friend John, 
then we͛re into the pub for a couple of scoops 
and I am bloody well back to square one. 
 
I never drink on a Monday, 
that's the day I look after me health. 
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An Irishman’s Diet

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