Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
Ian Dury
I'm Joey the Budgie, I'm a boy or a girl
I'm probably the most typical caged bird in the world
In Cranham or Hounslow I sit on my perch
Old Mother Nature's left me right in the lurch
This is my routine: first I ponder and peck
I look in the mirror and I shit on the deck
I try to fly, I bang my head
I think of something creative instead
I ruffle my feathers and have a good scratch
Spend at least half an hour trying to undo my catch
Not as though I want to be deleted by an owl
I've got to fight this awful situation somehow
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
A bundle of joy then
Poor Joey *hello!*
How the ruddy hell does she expect me to speak
With half a ton of cuttlefish stuck in my beak?
I go into a moody, disdainfully preen
I'm just to upset to mutter something obscene
I appreciate the difficulties of owning a pet
Speaking as a budgie, it's like Russian Roulette
I was bred for the purpose and I shouldn't complain
I know you'll forgive me when I sing this refrain
Poor Joey *she's a right bastard!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
Every Christmas they try to get me plastered
Poor Joey *hello!*
Joey the Budgie, I'm a boy or a girl
I'm probably the most typical caged bird in the world
In Cranham or Hounslow I sit on my perch
Old Mother Nature's left me right in the lurch
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
A bundle of joy then
Poor Joey *hello!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey
Poor Joe
Poor Joey *who's a pretty boy then?*
Poor Joe *hello!*
Poor Joey
Poor Joe *cheerio!*