MAN IN THE BOAT ƒ F# B A E Her tits hung low, but her arse was flabbier, My fingers went in search of the pouting labia Smelled dead strong, I thought I'll have a bit of this And my tongue went looking for the clitoris Can't fucking find it - where's the man in the boat? The bastard's disappeared, she must be faking Its like trying to find a bean in ten pounds of bacon Loads of hair and uncooked mutton There's no sign of a little pink button Can't fucking find it - where's the man in the boat? She turned over to watch Eastenders There must be a diagram someone could lend us Tried further up, got no reaction Trust a bloody woman to have such a contraption. ©1989 The Macc Lads N.B.- 'Eastenders' - a television programme understood solely by women. TRACK CHAT HORRID HUNDRED