[Verse 1: Glasgow female MC, broad Scots, every word on the snare] Saturday morning, he's glued to the settee Crisps on his belly, shouting, what's for my tea Says, hen, while you're out, get the messages in Milk and bread and tatties and a bottle of gin Eight years of that, aye, eight years of that shite Me with the bags and him with the remote all night Every Saturday morning I'm away up the road Carrying the messages and carrying the load [Pre-Hook: Glasgow female MC, low and sly] So I took the list, aye, I took the pen And I added a few things he'll no' see again [Hook: Glasgow female MC, loud and grinning] I'm away for the messages, don't wait up I've got the milk, I've got the bread, I've got the motor and the pup Left you a message on the fridge in big black pen I'm away for the messages, and I'm no' back again [Verse 2: Glasgow female MC, faster, counting on her fingers] First stop the bank and I emptied the joint Left him twenty quid, because that's the point Second stop the lawyer at the top of Hope Street Signed my name that hard that I near tore the sheet Third stop my pal's, she's been waiting eight year Kettle on, bags packed, she says, hen, you're here Phone goes, it's him, wanting milk and some bread So I sent him a photo of the motorway instead [Hook: Glasgow female MC, loud and grinning] I'm away for the messages, don't wait up I've got the milk, I've got the bread, I've got the motor and the pup Left you a message on the fridge in big black pen I'm away for the messages, and I'm no' back again [Bridge: Glasgow female MC, one-breath list, the whole list in a single breath] Milk, bread, tatties, gin, the dog and the deeds The hoover, the towels, every single thing I need My Saturdays, my mornings and my maiden name All packed in a bag for life, and I'm feeling no shame [Verse 3: Glasgow female MC, cold and calm, then grinning] Sunday he wakes up and the house is that quiet Fridge is bare, cupboard's bare, he's about to riot Note on the fridge door, one line, nice and neat You wanted the messages, son, there's your receipt His maw phones me greetin', says he cannae cope I said the shop's still open, tell him take a bag and hope [Hook: Glasgow female MC, loud and grinning] I'm away for the messages, don't wait up I've got the milk, I've got the bread, I've got the motor and the pup Left you a message on the fridge in big black pen I'm away for the messages, and I'm no' back again [End]
