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Well, he's crying in his beer
Nuthin's ever near
The TV isn't here
In Doug's scullery

He's frying up a storm
He's running true to form
Everything is norm
In Doug's scullery

And by the window sill
Well, half a paid up bill
Mamy's long lost will
In Doug's scullery

Out of mind
Out of reach
On a beach somewhere
Far away from the noisy crowd
Doug dug dig it up
Your castles in the sand
Don't get bitten by the hand
The hand that feeds you

And waiting in a jar
Is Fred the Budgerigar
Wishing he was far away
From Doug's scullery

And no one gives him seeds
No caring for his needs
He's wasting in the weeds
In Doug's scullery

And when he's fattened up
They'll put him in a cup
And feed him to the pup
In Doug's scullery

(Oh, what a happy day ... it's a sign of the times ... it's bitesize)

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