Old Bill was a rover, a thirsty old sod,
and his only friend was a rusty old rod,
with six chambers of death a big forty-four
ol' Billy was bad news at anyone's door.

He had a dog it was no pedigree
a mongrel of sorts a sad one to see
It had but one eye as mean as could be
a bout with a cat that was out on the spree.
The cat well it went to the Promised Land
to join in the night-howlers merry band

And Sonny the dog was left with one eye
It hurt like hell 'cause it was a cat that did try
to convince him that killing a cat was unfair
because all you got was a mouthful of hair

In the pub of the Unicorn late in the night
Bill got a bad hand and started a fight.
He pulled out his gun the old forty-four
and wagged it around then shot at the floor.
It made a racket and a bloody big hole
the size of which was fit for a mole.

Now Mary the widower got a bit sore
'cause she owned that pub including the floor.
She got out a persuader with a twelve gauge bore
and trained it a Billy, who did her adore.

- I'll blast you old Billy and not get the blame
for Billy the Sod was always the same,
and so you deserve this departure from here
a stoker in hell is your future career.

Now Sonny the Mutt he said to himself:
I'm cleared to be stuffed and put on a shelf.
If I move just one inch towards that silly old bitch
with her paw on the trigger she'll give me a hitch
a hike to the sky I'll meet with the cat
with one eye of mine, I would not like that.

But Billy was suddenly meek and bland
the steely eyed Mary with gun in hand,
was the kind of equal that Billy could love
and anyway he was too tired for a row.
So right then and there and unwritten pact
was made and agreed on like a contract.

Now he sits on the porch, gets three meals a day
plus a couple of pints, but he knows he must pay.
'cause Mary in lieu of a husband and son
has a lot of chores in the house to be done.

They befell old Billy and Sonny the mutt
when he just got a "full house" which led to that shot.
The cards were packed against Billy that night
and now it was love at the very first fight.

And Sonny the Mutt he lies in the back
of the porch where he has a bone and a sack
content he is like a tick on a dog
and most of the time he sleeps like a log.

He replays in his dreams a many good fight
where he is the hero and always is right.
The blasted cat is forgotten now
and anyway it was a silly old row.