If I was a different sort of person
I’d live at the racy end of town.
I’d always have my front door open
And I’d often have my knickers down.
Everyone would stop me when they saw me
and I’d know them all by their first name
and if I didn’t they would call me “darling”
they’d all flock around me just the same.
In noonday sun I’d sit upon my doorstep
close my eyes and puffing on a fag
ask my neighbours in to have a brew up.
They’d maybe end up staying for a shag.
I’d be happy to lend you my last penny
Just as long as you’d do that for me.
Ask about my troubles - I’ve not any.
What you see is what you get with me.
Spend each evening down the pub carousing.
Have a knees up - that’s the life for me.
Not a care and no more time for grousing
What a happy camper I would be!
If I was a different sort of person
but that carefree nature is not mine.
But . . if I was a different sort of person
I would have a fucking brilliant time!