How Everyone but Sam Was a Hypocrite

Lyrics

Half a bitter for the vicar He's here to save your soul He's looking fat and jovial Though he's nearly on the dole Anne Riley cooks his dinner She keeps him washed and fed She doesn't need much prompting To jump into his bed And they all think they're so grand Yes, they all think they're so grand Yes, they all think they're so grand But they're not Oh no they're not Dr. Watson drinks large whiskies He's nearly always high He supplements his incomе Aborting on the sly Mrs. Thompson is an angel In the W.V.S Hеr meals on wheels are very cheap And she cooks the books for less Sammy Cohen is the bookie Sitting over there Drinking three star brandy He doesn't seem to care No-one wants to know him They say he's been inside They say his dear old mother Committed suicide Dr. Watson charged Anne Riley A fifty guinea fee For Mr. Thompson's peace of mind As far as I can see Mrs. Thompson envies Annie Cooking for the preacher And everyone thinks Sam Is a quite disgusting creature But if the truth was known It would shake all their foundations It seems the preacher lives On Sam's anonymous donations