The British Anatomical-Stem (Bell-end)

Lyrics

Right. Let's have a look.
The ink's a bit smudged.
From the damp.

It's 1955. The Dog and Duck.
This leather notebook, it's seen a bit.
Got a plate of jellied eels here, going cold.
A pint of bitter, losing its head.
But the list... the list is the thing.
Page one. Header in block capitals:
"The Male Appendage: A Working Glossary."
Fifty entries so far.
Collected from cabbies, dockers, and the chap who sells the whelks.
A national service, I call it.

But the king of the lot, the one you hear from Poplar to Pimlico...
Is the bell-end.
Oh, it's a good one. Simple. Anatomical.
Describes the shape of the thing.
And the shape of the man you're calling it.
A perfect, beautiful, all-purpose insult.
Number one on the list. With a star.

Number two: Todger. A friendly sort of word.
Then Pillock, which can mean the man or the thing itself.
And Knob, of course. Can't forget knob.
You got your Plonker, your Pecker, your Percy.
I write 'em all down.
The barmaid, she hears one, she winks at me.
I just nod, chew the end of my pencil.
Another one for the collection.
Eric Partridge, the clever sod, he'd be proud.

But none of them sing like the old reliable.
The bell-end.
Oh, it's a good one. Simple. Anatomical.
Describes the shape of the thing.
And the shape of the man you're calling it.
A perfect, beautiful, all-purpose insult.
Number one on the list. With a star.

But here's the funny bit. The twist.
Last Tuesday, saw two builders, mates, proper mates.
One drops a bag of cement on his foot.
The other one laughs, helps him up.
Says, "Alright, you daft old bell-end?"
Not with malice. With... something else.
Like a pat on the back.
I wrote that down, too. Under "Peculiar Usages."

Fifty-one now.
The rain's letting up.
Time for another pint, I think.