"Messing about with your Liver"

A quick (but lengthy) follow-up to Tuesday's post

as I have now located the song I was looking for.

I have also popped up a version here for those of you wanting to hear it.

MESSING ABOUT ON THE RIVER

Josh MacRae

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When the weather is fine, then you know it's a sign

For messing about on the river.

If you take my advice, there's nothing so nice

As messing about on the river.

There are long-boats and short boats and all sorts of craft,

And cruisers and keel boats and some with no draught.

So, take off your coat, go jump in a boat.

Go messing about on the river.

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There are boats made from kits that greet you in bits

For messing about on the river;

Or you might like to scull in a glass-fibre hull,

Just messing about on the river.

There are tillers and rudders and anchors and cleats

And ropes that are sometimes referred to as sheets.

With the wind in your face, there's no finer place

Than messing about on the river

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There are skippers and mates and rowing-club eights

Just messing about on the river.

There are pontoons and trots, and all sorts of knots

For messing about on the river.

With inboards and outboards and dinghies you sail.

The first thing you learn is the right way to bail.

In a one-seat canoe, you're the skipper and crew

When you're messing about on the river.

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There are bridges and locks and moorings and docks

When you're messing about on the river.

There are whirlpools and weirs that you mustn't go near

When messing about on the river.

There are backwater places all hidden from view,

And quaint little islands just waiting for you,

So I'll leave you right now to cast off your bow

To go messing about on the river.

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And now, as a follow-up to "School for Scalpels" last Sunday.

(same tune)

MESSING ABOUT WITH YOUR LIVER.

(M.A.W.Y.L.)

There's whiskey or wine, or vodka is fine, for Messing About With Your Liver,

You can even try hops, or the new alcho pops, for M.A.W.Y.L.,

There's ale of all sorts, there's porter and stout,

There's lager and cider, they're all good no doubt,

But stay off the gin, it will lead to ruin, when you're M.A.W.Y.L.

Your vision gets blurred, and your speech may be slurred, whilst M.A.W.Y.L.,

The road may zig zag, you'll have to blow in the bag, through M.A.W.Y.L.,

Excuse me says the copper, but you've told a whopper,

Eight pints at least, you've had with your feast,

Spend the night in our cell, we'll take your car as well, no more M.A.W.Y.L.

If you drink strong ale, you'll never get stale, whilst M.A.W.Y.L.

Its laxative properties, will put you at ease, whilst M.A.W.Y.L.

With bowels in overdrive, don't get taken short,

Long meetings or car trips are bound to be fraught,

You'll get a rebuke, if you have to puke, through M.A.W.Y.L.

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