The Real John Peel

 Do ye ken John Peel? Have ye heard him play?
Blasting his horn at the break of day?
He’s a noisy little bugger and I wished he’d go away,
So I could get some kip in the morning.

Well he woke me up, I was feeling rough,
I’d a hangover head and I’d had enough,
So I went down stairs an’ I grabbed him by the scruff,
To ‘explain’ my point of view in the morning.

Then I grabbed his balls and gave them a squeeze,
He gave a shriek and his horn gave a wheeze,
I said shut that fuckin’ row and I’m not saying please,
Or I’ll kick yer bloody arse in the morning.’

Soon he again at the break of day,
Put his horn to his gob and began to play,
I had to do something to send him on his way,
‘Cos my head was a throbbing in the morning.

Well he kept on playing, I was damn near dead,
I had to arise from my comfy bed,
So I grabbed his horn an’ I stuffed down his head,
And I choked the twat to death in the morning.

The constable came I thought ‘Now I’m in the shit,’
But he said Well done, I admire your grit,
Everybody in the village was tired of the git,
And his stupid bloody horn in the morning.

So I’d killed John Peel and that’s my boast,
Now I sit down at ten to my breakfast toast,
But every now and then I swear I hear his ghost,
As I’m bonking his widow in the morning! ;-)