The Living Game

The human race is not that brave, The most of us we are depraved Some are gentle, some are bad Some are mean and others mad. Two women in the butcher shop buying meat Their children play on the side street But the childrens play don't turn out right And their mothers join them in the fight. The drinking man who likes his jar May think himself a boozing star But he is a better man by far Who drinks one pint and leaves the bar. An eighty years old aristocrat nicknamed the squire Possessed what most women desire Divorced his sixth wife who'd grown stale and cold And wed a sweet nineteen year old. When newsy idle women meet Their gossip it is hard to beat Oh did you hear says Mrs Brown About Johnny so and so down town That's right chimed in mis Rosaleen I heard he stole a pint of cream, 'A pint of cream says Mrs Bail' That man should be locked up in jail. On and on our life must go Who dies next nobody know But if you have money you have fame It's what they call the living game.