| Lyrics | Philosopher |
| NAME was a real pissant who was very rarely stable | |
| NAME, NAME was a boozy beggar who could think you under the table | |
| NAME could out-consume | |
| NAME and | |
| NAME | |
| And NAME was a beery swine | |
| Who was just as schlosched as NAME | |
| There's nothing NAME couldn't teach you 'bout the raising of the wrist | |
| | Lyrics | Philosopher |
| NAME himself was permanently pissed | |
| NAME of his own free will on half a pint of shanty was particularly ill | |
| NAME, they say, could stick it away - half a crate of whiskey every day | |
| NAME, NAME was a bugger for the bottle | |
| NAME was fond of his dram | |
| And NAME was a drunken fart - I drink therefore I am | |
| NAME himself is particularly missed, a lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed | |
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