The Living Game

The human race is not that brave,
The most of us we are depraved
Some are gentle, some are bad
Some are mean and others mad.

Two women in the butcher shop buying meat
Their children play on the side street
But the childrens play don't turn out right
And their mothers join them in the fight.

The drinking man who likes his jar
May think himself a boozing star
But he is a better man by far
Who drinks one pint and leaves the bar.

An eighty years old aristocrat nicknamed the squire
Possessed what most women desire
Divorced his sixth wife who'd grown stale and cold
And wed a sweet nineteen year old.

When newsy idle women meet
Their gossip it is hard to beat
Oh did you hear says Mrs Brown
About Johnny so and so down town

That's right chimed in Miss Rosaleen
I heard he stole a pint of cream,
'A pint of cream says Mrs Bail'
That man should be locked up in jail.

On and on our life must go
Who dies next nobody know
But if you have money you have fame
It's what they call the living game.