Jack’s Been to the National

Here’s Jack
Just got back
Standing at the bar
Brandishing his race badge
There’s no need
We know where you’ve been
We’ve all seen
Your Matalan suit

Where did your socks go?
Did your socks go
To the same place as your horse?
Fifty pound
At twenty to one
Later found at ten past four

I’ve seen some chumps in my time
But you’re off the scale
Given an inch of encouragement
You’ll take a yard of ale
And now he’s standing on the table
He’s under starter’s orders

Jack’s been to The National
Jack’s been to The National
Jack’s been to The National
And he’s fallen at the first

That’s Jack
Back on track
Practising his golf swing
In the car park
F1 chat down the fairway
I dare say all is well in his world

Got property in Mobberley
Probably
Ridiculous gate
It’s all about salary
And playing to the gallery
He’s never heard of George Leigh-Mallory

On his phone at the lights
On his own most nights
You see he’s trying to win his wife back
She’s never coming back, Jack
She took her stuff back
Take your shot Jack

Bile, spite, hatred and vitriol
That’s all she’s got left for you
And the Himalayan salt lamp
The Navajo headdress
We don’t care about
How much you can bench press
Out of bounds on the left
It’s a right old trail of tears

So here’s to your Native American name
Great Big Whopper with Shit for Brains
Here’s to your Native American name
Great Big Whopper with Shit for Brains
Here’s to your Native American name
Great Big Whopper with Shit for Brains
Here’s to your Native American name
Great Big Whopper with Shit for Brains

Jack’s been to The National
Jack’s been to The National