The Set Up

He said he'd set her up for life and he's certainly done that
She's his skivvy, servant and his slave and also his doormat
She drives him in his car because he's mostly far too pissed
She tries to earn some money so that, with luck, they can exist
The smell of urine, stale tobacco and ever aging beer
Is a delight, I guess, which brings her but little cheer
She cooks, she cleans, she scrubs, she means to help him all she can
But next day's the same with broken dreams all flushed down the pan
So line up his broken promises and put them in a row
They'll stretch from here to Wigan pier with plenty more to go
Then add the incoherent nights where drunk out of his head
He needs a nurse, not lover, to get him to his bed
Ah me! now why she bothers I guess I'll never know
It seems we try to keep our dreams when real life lays us low
I know it's said that love is blind but as far as I can see
It's deaf, dumb, blind and stupid too - but perhaps that's only me