Mayhem at Orchy Court.
Brindle puppies everywhere,
Big black Greyhound on my chair.
Little Gorgeous in her cot
The sun is shining, really hot.
If only I could go outside
And lie in the sun till my washing's dried,
No chance of that - I've meals to make
I'd really like to have a break.
"Oh Beauty, don't chew Marlon's ear,"
I think I'll have an ice cold beer.
Oh sod it all, I'll sit outside
Or get in my car and go for a ride.
The phone is ringing, now who is that?
Better ignore it, it's probably Pat!
The dogs are barking, there's someone here,
There goes my chance of an ice cold beer.
"We've come to see the brindle pups,"
On goes the kettle, out come the cups.
I can't find homes for all these hounds,
We really need a few more pounds.
We've bills to pay and dogs to feed,
All because of someone's greed.
I never turn a dog away, even
though I'm full,
I sit here knitting ladybirds out of mother's wool.
And then I paint my plantpots to sell on our stall,
Whilst Greyhounds play with teddies, and Whippets play with
balls.
When finally they're all sleeping and I can have a rest
This is the part of evening that I enjoy the best.
We settle down to watch TV and have a cosy chat,
Then all at once the phone rings - I hope it isn't Pat!
I look just like a hobo, my love life is a mess,
And who the hell's to blame for it? I think that you have
guessed.