Went to a wedding feast in Liverpool
and things were going fine
when I heard the MC mutter
Christ! There’s no more feckin’ wine!
Now I can’t condone bad language
or taking mi name in vain
though if I weren’t the Son of God
I might’ve said the same.
Mi mum, she heard it also
and leant across to me,
saying, There seems to be a problem.
Why doncha go and see?
Now I love mi mother dearly
but it were neither place nor time
so I just replied demurely
Tain’ no concern of mine.
But no mother’s as formidabla
as my formidabla mum:
she just called a waiter over
and said Listen to mi son.
Now I love mi mother dearly
so when she says things twice to me
I always think that really
I’d best not disagree.
So I says to that there waiter
Ya see them great big jars?
Fill ’em right up with water
and take a little glass
over to yer gaffer
before he has a fit.
I’m sure he’ll feel much better
when he’s drunk a little bit.
Which when they’d done, yer man exclaimed
Jeez! They’ve kept the best till last!
Sorted, lads and lasses!
We’ll be round to fill yer glass.
Now I really, really can’t accept
(being God’s only son)
bad language or drinking to excess
within the normal run
but when it comes to wedding feasts
why can’t folk have some fun?
(You needn’t take my word for it:
just go and ask mi mum.)
So, in the end the wedding feast
could not have been much better
and it made me glad that as well as God
I’m a living breathing fella.
Well, that were my first miracle
done before the proper time
by putting a spell on water
and turning it to wine.
