The Plasterer of Paris

Did you hear about the croaking of the plasterer Frog
Who worked around the capital of France?
Everyone he met would get the same old monologue
The same old froggin’ boring song and dance
He reckoned he’d just whistle
And a bag & a half of Thistle
Would hit the wall before you could say ‘merde’
He’d tell you he was fasterer
Than any old other plasterer
As if there was someone around that cared

The plasterer of Paris never scored more than a nought
The plasterer of Paris got you yawning when he talked
The plasterer of Paris was more boring than he thought
The plasterer… of Paris

He spent his leisure moments like a drunken slob
When he overdosed he’d usually fall down flat
When you’re horizontally plastered you are easily robbed
A wad of dough can vanish just like that
He couldn’t pay his mate
Who gets a tiny little bit irate
And tells him that his story doesn’t stick
Who actually has the gall
To mummify him in a wall
And finish him off with a bag of ready-mix

The plasterer of Paris is no longer in the way
The plasterer of Paris has just knocked off for the day
The plasterer of Paris has become an RSJ
The plasterer… of Paris


The body of the plasterer will no longer booze
But his spirit-level part is walking still
From beyond the grave he arranges ghostly rendezvous
And no one can resist his plastering will
He carries Pernod in a pail
About a yard or two of ale
And pink champagne all bubbling from a trough
When you meet his plastering ghoul
Then all your brains turn into wool
And he picks your pockets while you sleep it off

The plasterer of Paris makes your head turn round and round
The plasterer of Paris makes sure everyone goes down
The plasterer of Paris gets you stretched out on the ground
The plasterer… the plastra… of Paris