When the Hangover Strikes - (Chris Difford, Glenn Tilbrook)

    When the hangover strikes
    And I open my post
    And the coffee is on
    And I'm burning my toast
    I let the battle commence
    I see a sun in the trees
    And a draught at the door
    With my head in my lap
    There's a day to explore
    But I'm left without sense

    As the hangover strikes
    And I turn on the tap
    But the water's too loud
    And I'm caged by the fact
    That the battle's not lost
    Is it the hair of the dog
    Or the Baa of a Lamb
    In a sheepish attempt
    To be half of the man
    That I might be or was

    When the hangover strikes
    And a mirror reveals
    That it's Midnight or bust
    And a drink does appeal
    Now the battle is won
    So the cure of the can
    Pours its heart out on me
    Though I'm feeling locked up
    But I can't find the key
    Well no damage was done

    Poor poor poor, poor shaken one
    Pour pour pour, pour me another one

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words