Lyrics

I run just one ov my daddy's shops from 9 o'clock to 9 o'clock and he vunt me not to hav a break but ven nobody in, I do di lock - cos up di stairs is my newly bride vee share in chapatti vee share in di chutney after vee hav made luv like vee rowing through Putney - Ven I return vid my pinnie untied di shoppers always point and cry: Hey Singh, ver yoo bin? Yor lemons are limes yor bananas are plantain, dis dirty little floor need a little bit of mop in di worst Indian shop on di whole Indian road - Above my head high heel tap di ground as my vife on di web is playing wid di mouse ven she netting two cat on her Sikh lover site she book dem for di meat at di cheese ov her price - my bride she effing at my mum in all di colours of Punjabi den stumble like a drunk making fun at my daddy my bride tiny eyes ov a gun and di tummy ov a teddy my bride she hav a red crew cut and she wear a Tartan sari a donkey jacket and some pumps on di squeak ov di girls dat are pinching my sweeties - Ven I return from di tickle ov my bride di shoppers always point and cry: Hey Singh, ver yoo bin? Di milk is out ov date and di bread is alvays stale, di tings yoo hav on offer yoo hav never got in stock in di worst Indian shop on di whole Indian road - Late in di midnight hour ven yoo shoppers are wrap up quiet ven di precinct is concrete-cool vee cum down whispering stairs and sit on my silver stool, from behind di chocolate bars vee stare past di half-price window signs at di beaches ov di UK in di brightey moon - from di stool each night she say, How much do yoo charge for dat moon baby? from di stool each night I say, Is half di cost ov yoo baby, from di stool each night she say, How much does dat come to baby? from di stool each night I say, Is priceless baby -