One glass of wine down
It hasn't been a good year.
A shot or two of Absolut,
And now you got an attitude.
3, 4, 5 from the whiskey distiller
And a sixth of tequila
And I still want to kill her

Well I can't drink you pretty, it's true.
Can't drink you pretty, no can do.
Well your beauty's only skin deep
But your ugliness goes the whole way through.
It's true.

Clock strikes seven,
And still no forgetting
Your face with the chasers
8, 9, 10, 11
And twelve-o-clock don't rock
And I'm getting sicker
To make you a catch
Is gonna take some more liquor

Well I can't drink you pretty, it's true.
Can't drink you pretty, no can do.
Well your beauty's only skin deep
But your ugliness goes the whole way through.
It's true.


He was a famous trumpet man from old Chicago way
He had a boogie style that no one else could play
He was the top man at his craft
But then his number came up and he was gone with the 
draft
He's in the army now, a-blowin' reveille
He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B

“Fuckin' hell, it's Roy Wood!!”