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Viewing Lyrics for Sweatty Betty:

Artist:Macc Lads
Taken from the album Beer N Sex N Chips N Gravy by Macc Lads
Album:Beer N Sex N Chips N Gravy
Track:Sweatty Betty
 
Date Added:18/10/2007
Rating:not yet rated     
Views:507
 
Lyrics:Well, she wore big knickers,
And she worked on t' sewage farm,
I got me 'and down 'er
jeans an'
I nearly lost half me arm.
But after ten pints,
Looked quite
fit,
Couldn't wait to get me hands
On her flabby tits.

Sweatty Betty, Sweatty
Betty,
So I said slap that and ride the ripples,
I've just got to get me gob
'Round
her inverted nipples.
She had a massive arse
And sweatty breasts,
Thirty eight
inch,
She were a mound of flesh.

Sweatty Betty, she eats a lot of pies,
Sweatty
Betty, she's got enormous thighs,
Sweatty Betty, have you smelt her breath,
Sweatty Betty,
she'll crush a man to death.
And I knew that she wanted me fer shag 'er,
So I stabbed 'er
cunt with me mutton dagger,
I couldn't believe the spots on her bum,
She used to play for
Wigan at the back of the scrum.

Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, Sweatty
Betty.

'An I've seen real Maccicians gerroff 'ome
But you know me, I'll shag endless
buer.

Sweatty Betty, she eats a lot of chips,
Sweatty Betty, she's got massive
tits,
Sweatty Betty, she's got a huge vagina,
Sweatty Betty, you'd fit a bus inside
'er.
Sweatty Betty, Sweatty Betty, she's so obscene,
Sweatty Betty, it doesn't matter to
me.
Sweatty Betty, she's like a lump of lard,
Sweatty Betty, she makes me willy
hard.




England's Glory

Shut up and listen,
I'm
gonna tell thee a story,
About me trip down south,
To the crotch of England's
glory.
Took some Dombies and a Bod can,
To make me fell at home,
I'm going down
London,
Dig up paving stones.

Got to London half past six,
And I wished I'd
never come,
'Cos there's puffs down 'ere
Drinkin' halves of larger,
Without notes
from their mum's.
No gravy at the chippy,
And what's a savaloy?
Every pub were full
of boring
Isling bottom boys.

We are all just simple lads,
Never asked for
much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday night,
An' a wife at home to fuck.

If I
live to be forty,
I'll never understand,
Why they're up 'till eleven,
To drink beer
that's second-hand.
Dialling 0625 on the telephone,
I shouts "pull us a pint of bitter
ale
The night I'm comin' home."

We are all just simple lads,
Never asked for
much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday night,
And a wife at home to fuck.

Yeah, we
are all just simple lads
Never asked for much,
Just twenty pints on a Friday
night,
And a wife at home to fuck.

(repeat
 
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