HEN NIGHT ƒ  E A D The pub went hush, could hear a fag drop, A glass vibrates on the table top. Far away, a worrying sound, The rumble of flesh from the other side of town Sup up your beer, collect your fags, before we're hit by flying jam rags Clattering heels and giggling squeals, they scream, they howl, they hiss Totter down the cobbles, teeshirts a wobble Hen night on the piss I'm buried beneath giggling flesh. A size fourteen in a size eight dress Spritzers spilled, cameras flash, Your knee's full of arse, your 'tache is full of gash Handbags swinging, drunken singing: "Show us yer knob" and "Gissa kiss" Chippendales then chips and ale Hen night on the piss "We're not fussy who we're shagging, just get us a rum and black in, We'll shag geordies, we'll shag scousers, Get your cocks out of your trousers" ©1993 The Macc Lads N.B.- ‘Chippendales’ - Furniture makers in the 1700s, specialising in the Rococo and Neo-Classical.            Women get excited about going to see them on hen nights. TRACK CHAT HORRID HUNDRED