A quick edit to explain it's just a piece of fun but based on Keat's Belle Dame sans Merci ... if you know that one it makes more sense.

Oh what’s your problem, drunken slob
seen staggering and loitering?
The clock has ticked beyond the top,
And no birds sing.

Oh what’s your issue you sorry man!
You’re swaying and so woe-begone.
The Hacienda’s doors are closed,
And the evening’s done.

I see vomit on your chin
With stubble moist and tie askew,
And on your pants a beer stain
is fast drying too.

I met a lady in Tiger Tiger,
Well fit she was – a divorcee wild

for fun and laughs, for dance and drink;
And at me she smiled.

I bought a cocktail for her friend,
And peanuts too, with welcome tone;
She looked at me with lustful gaze,
raised my wishbone.

I took her through my dancing moves,
And saw nothing other all night long,
For sidelong she’d smile and sing
A boy band song.

She ground my crotch against her warmth,
And pulled me close, her soft breasts too,
And in broad Mancunian urged me on,
with lust so true.

She took me to her hotel room,
And there she cried, spewing and sore,
And there I waved the slut goodbye
and closed the door.

And I left the Ramada lobby,
And then blasphemed -- Ah! woe betide!
The latest fox I ever foxed
On Deansgate’s roadside.

I saw drunk men and drunk girls too,
Drunken reprobates, stumbling as they fall;
They cried – I’ll never drink again,
I’ve been a fool!

I saw their chapped lips in the gloom,
With puking yawning retching wide,
And I drifted and found me here,
On Deansgate’s roadside.

And this is why I stagger here,
still swaying and woe-begone

Though the night bus has left the stop,
And no birds sing.