But she walks on pretending she does not hear
There’s lots of false courage in the drink known as beer.
With shoulder length brown hair perhaps she is in her life’s prime
Were I a poet I’d sing her praises in rhyme
And were I in my prime and had drunk one too many or two
As she walked down the street I’d wolf whistle her too.
A woman is as old as she looks some do say
But a man he is old when he looks the other way
From a beautiful woman as she goes walking by
Perhaps life is a thing he no longer enjoy.
A beautiful woman in an ordinary Town
The young men wolf whistle as she walks up and down
As they sit on the pub verandah in the evening sunshine
There’s lots of false courage in beer, whiskey and wine.