King O' Glasgow

McTavish worked the factory a common workin' lad
 Not much to look forward to 'cept drink and being bad
 He'd show up at the bar and spend his money on the booze
 Spend the night complaining, to the barman he'd be rude
 He'd brag loudly at the bar 'bout the time he'd got the crabs
 Or the strike down at the docks when he beat up all the scabs
 The barman said yo laddie you keep the language clean
 He smiled and said pissh off and threw up in the soup tureen
 What's the matter it's dear olde Glasgee's goin' round and round
 Saturday night, Sunday morning
 The King O Glasgee Town
 One day in the Queen came 'to town, he went to the parade
 Shtill pisht from the night before he spied her motorcade
 As her car went past he made a gesture very divide
 He lifted his kilt and showed his ass as dirty as the Clyde
 He staggered home that night
 His kilt was dripping piss
 He stopped te boch on a minister's frock
 And he raised his drunken fist