In life and this so called success game whatever the hell that might mean
Since I’m one who doesn’t look up to any and my better days I have seen.
I never did sing my own praises though I cannot afford for to brag
And others they cannot say of me that fellow he is a windbag
But I have not spent years in college and can’t boast of my Uni degrees
I was a young man of the sixtries and I shovelled in mud to my knees.
I’ve never been one who liked windbags they feel away above the rest
Yet I do not dislike them as people it’s what they stand for I detest
They feel they are better than others with them it is me, myself and I
And I do not like them for their boasting and about that fact why should I lie.
When someone tells me of his or her successes though of such of them I did not ask
I listen to them for four or five minutes whilst in self adulation they bask
I end our one way conversation by saying there’s someone that I have to meet
I do not waste time on such people their heads rather swelled of conceit.
I do not have much time for windbags though their type I meet every day
They bore me with their self importance and their loud voices a give away
They boast of the good jobs they hold down and they brag of their Uni degrees
And I a young man of the sixties still shovel in mud to the knees.