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macc lads – got to be gordon’s lyrics

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poof at the clinic – he’s got the gay plague:
‘help me doctor, my b-m’s in pain.’
‘get down kwok lai’s for a 45, eight tandooris and a
chicken pie,
ten pints of guinness and a vindaloo, box of all bran and
a bowl of prunes
dash to the bog and lock the door-
then you’ll know what your -rs-hole’s for.’
don’t be a poof or a queer brown hatter
a t-rd burglar or a b-ttock basher
eat chips n gravy and cod in batter
you’ll be safe from the botty slappers

mps down south eat caviar
(smells as fishy as a poofter’s fart)
she says we eat sh-t if we live up north
(she needs a gobful of macc lad’s pork)
‘chips and gravy make you spotty’
(they’re the ones with the dead sore bottys)
if you want to be a macc lad and not get aids
its got to be gordon’s takeaway.



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