Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell

I've been writing in the Low life column pouring out my heart

Once described as a suicide note in weekly parts

Which prompted somebody to ask me why I drink so

If he had to ask then he's never going to know

Of the women and the gambling I was proud before I fell

Lately I've been feeling unwell

I supped with Francis Bacon before he gave up the fight

I saw Dylan Thomas stagger into that good night

Lucien was one of us teetering on the brink

Since then they all gave up the ghost or else gave up the drink

Perhaps the clinking of the glasses was us ringing our death bell

But not now I'm just feeling unwell

They said give up the bottle back in 1965

The doctors are pissed off that I am still alive

They say I'm a role model for the young and the profane

They want me to die horribly in pain

Well fuck the doctors they can go to hell

They don't help me when I'm feeling unwell

I've met extraordinary folk in my extraodinary life

I've had 500 women of which four became my wife

I've had a lot of vodka and I've had a lot of fun

I've chucked up at Ascot at the feet of the Queen Mum

I've got my stories than I've time to tell

But not now, I'm feeling unwell

But stuck in my sixth floor flat in a Soho tower block

I wonder how I've survived so many knocks

Soho ain't the paradise it once was anymore

It's full of strip joints and fucking advertising bores

Booze and fags are consolation but I've been ill for a spell

Jeffrey Bernard Is Unwell