He partied with all the bimbos
Massaging his belly, when the belly
Is playing a yo-yo game under the starts,
Feeling rinky-dink on the hands of hookers.

The brandies cost him arm and leg
Forgets that kids starve to death.
Coming home like an airhead with
No bread to feed, on a grubby clothes

A husband shan’t party-hearty
And make night-rackets, riots are for
Amateurs. A man must look
After his red hots in the house.