Dribcot Funeral March

[Verse]
I write this song for the people like me
Ladies who swim in the cold winter sea
Flinching, I cower, the boy strikes my face
Oh yes it feels good to be put in one's place

Sometimes the bones in my fingers are cold
The mock Tudor Sainsbury's, the young and the old

Mother you bastard I fall on my face
I'm old and now I have become a disgrace
I sing a song for the Portuguese drum