Gary Woods, song-writer

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We Used to be Mates
Crackers:
You don't talk to me Johnny, we used to be mates
Our greyhounds and trotters, and toss-up blind dates
Are mem'ries I'll take with me right to the grave
I can't understand the way you behave

I've made it like you 'though admitting it's true
My fate lies with Chucka, while your chips are blue
Johnny:
My life's in the passing lane, Crackers old son
With fame such as mine you can't please everyone
If it makes you feel better I'll treble your pay
For each best-on-ground winning game that you play!
Ha,ha, pigsarse!
You're 'way past your best, so it won't cost a lot
But this will show others ungenerous I'm not!
Crackers:
I'm over the hill yet this ungen'rous plot
You think will cost peanuts, might cost you a lot
I've made it like you 'though admitting it's true

Johnny:
Your fate lies with Chucka, while my chips are blue

Crackers:
I'll still take those memories, right to the grave
Johnny:
I can't understand the way you behave
Crackers:
They're mem'ries I'll take with me, right to the grave
Johnny:
I don't understand you, or how you behave
See ya 'round son!