I'm Joey the Budgie, I'm a boy or a girl
I'm probably the most typical caged bird in the world
In Cranham or Hounslow I sit on my perch
Old Mother Nature's left me right in the lurch
This is my routine: first I ponder and peck
I look in the mirror and I shit on the deck
I try to fly, I bang my head
I think of something creative instead
I ruffle my feathers and have a good scratch
Spend at least half an hour trying to undo my catch
Not as though I want to be deleted by an owl
I've got to fight this awful situation somehow
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
A bundle of joy then
Poor Joey *hello!*
How the ruddy hell does she expect me to speak
With half a ton of cuttlefish stuck in my beak?
I go into a moody, disdainfully preen
IÂ'm just to upset to mutter something obscene
I appreciate the difficulties of owning a pet
Speaking as a budgie, it's like Russian Roulette
I was bred for the purpose and I shouldn't complain
I know you'll forgive me when I sing this refrain
Poor Joey *she's a right bastard!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
Every Christmas they try to get me plastered
Poor Joey *hello!*
Joey the Budgie, I'm a boy or a girl
I'm probably the most typical caged bird in the world
In Cranham or Hounslow I sit on my perch
Old Mother Nature's left me right in the lurch
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
A bundle of joy then
Poor Joey *hello!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joe *hello!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe *cheerio!*
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