I thought it was odd
How he carried a hod
And trundled cement up and down.
When he wiggled his pelvis
And said he were Elvis
Then we all knew that he was a clown.

There’s Paddy and Mick,
Both real quick with a brick
So be careful should you call them thickies.
Though they’re not very bright
They both shine in a fight;
They’re a regular tough pair of brickies

They both said the lad had some daft aspirations
With his quiff and his blue suede shoes.
And as for those damaging pelvic gyrations,
They’d make any poor sod sing the blues!

He was jumping and jiving
And ducking and diving
And hollering more than he oughta.
He was hiding and skiving,
Spent more time conniving
Than he ever spent mixing up mortar.

Before this place he worked at McDonalds
Though they said all he did there was sing.
And when I asked why, he said with a sigh,
“Because I am the true Burger King.”

And he feeds you this story of growing up tough;
Of clawing his way from the ghetto,
But I’m sure that I saw him a month or two back
Stacking up shelves down at Netto.

And who is this Colonel he’s talking about?
Is he just some kind of a nut?
‘Cos he ain’t going far with this rock and roll star
If he don’t lose that beer-belly gut.

He’s been curling his lip and wiggling his hip
But he just ain’t been pulling his weight.
He may be a “hound-dog”, whatever that means,
But I tell you - he’s no builder’s mate.

He’s had umpteen jobs – or so I’ve heard tell
And each time he’s been given the sack.
Well its no different here
With a flea in his ear
From today he won’t be coming back.

The work that he does is just not up to scratch
And the flak I am fed up with fielding.
For anyone out there who needed to know,
Elvis has left the building … site.


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