In the park he pisses on the daisies.
On the bus he shits himself.
He wipes his nose on his sleeve.
His grey trench coat is full of fleas.

His name is Chutney.
He’s the real McCoy.
He’s not a crusty
Whispering for spare change.
He’s bared from the Wetherspoons chain.
Along with the Irish.
But he’ll be back again.

He can smoke a hundred Woodbines
Or Capstan Full Strength a day.
He can drink a gallon of meths
And still stand up in a fight.

His name is Chutney.
He’s the real McCoy.
He’s not a crusty
Whispering for spare change.
He’s bared from the Wetherspoon’s chain.
Along with the Irish.
But he’ll be back again.

He busks with a one-string mandolin
He found in a skip.
He goes down the Sally Army
For a cup of tea and some jip.

His name is Chutney.
He’s the real McCoy.
He’s not a crusty
Whispering for spare change.
He’s bared from the Wetherspoon's chain.
Along with the Irish.
But he’ll be back again.


Lyrics submitted by Mellow_Harsher

Chutney song meanings
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