She came out of the bogs, with a stink of damp dogs, With an Oxfam shop smell, her clothes were louder than hell, Drowning out the jukebox. I avoided her stare by diving under a chair, But right next to my nose, a pair of stilettos, I didn't have a prayer. She shouts: "Hey you, what you doing down there?, I were just tellin' the girls about our affair, How you took us home a week last Sunday, And made a mess before I got your knob out of your undies" She's the tart with the heart, she's the b**** with the lisp, And she works for the papers, she's a gossip columnist, Look up in the 'phone book for the Northern part of China, There's still one Chin that hasn't been hard-up on her vagina. She was lying, of course, I made a bolt for the door, But the loudmouth s*ut stuck out a foot, And put me back on the floor. I dived behind the plants to avoid her glance, But before very long, the familiar pong, Vaginal deoderant. She shouts: "Hey you, what you doing down there?, I were just tellin' the mates about our affair, And if theres any chance you could get the medication so you can avoid your premature ejaculation?" She's the tart with the heart, she's the b**** with the lisp, And she works for the papers, she's a gossip columnist, Look up in the 'phone book for the Northern part of China, There's still one Chin that hasn't been hard-up on her vagina. She's the tart with the heart, she's the b**** with the lisp, Spreads the word and her legs, she's a gossip columnist, Look up in the 'phone book for the Northern part of China, There's still one Chin that hasn't been hard-up on her vagina. She's the tart with the heart, she's the b**** with the lisp, Spreads the word and her legs, she's a gossip columnist, Look up in the 'phone book for the Northern part of China, There's still one Chin that hasn't been hard-up on her twat.