Heheh Oh! Hello there! Mind your step, darling. Barnaby’s had... well, let's just say that Barnaby has had an "adventure." snort Oh, it’s a bit much, isn't it? I’m looking quite the picture in my Barbour and my boots A country-catalogue lady with such elegant pursuits But Barnaby’s been busy in the brambles and the bog There’s a very distinct aura coming off my darling dog (Ooh, it’s a bit tangy!) He’s found a bit of something that’s been dead since ninety-two And he’s wearing it quite proudly like a coat of smelly glue Oh look, there’s Lady Higgins! "Hello! Yes, the weather’s grand!" (Don't let her sniff him, please! He’s the foulest in the land!) Oh, he’s reeking, he’s humming, he’s in a right state A mingin' little monster that I’ve grown to truly hate He’s marinated nicely in a puddle of fox muck If you’re downwind of my Barnaby, then I wish you the best of luck It’s a Waitrose solution to a Wetherspoons smell He looks like an angel but he pongs like... hell! hehehehe The British sky is weeping, so the dog is always damp He smells like soggy sourdough or a rusty camping lamp It’s the "Eau de Wet Woofer" hitting when I turn the heating on That sourdough-starter fragrance means the fresh air's well and gone (It’s thick, isn't it? You could slice it!) It lingers in the hallway, it’s a heavy, yeesty cloud My semi-detached residence has never felt so loud With the scent of manky carpet and a hint of stagnant canal He’s a very grotty beastie, but he’s still my bestest pal. Oh, he’s reeking, he’s humming, he’s in a right state A mingin' little monster that I’ve grown to truly hate He’s marinated nicely in a puddle of fox muck If you’re downwind of my Barnaby, then I wish you the best of luck It’s a Waitrose solution to a Wetherspoons smell He looks like an angel but he pongs like... hell! I spent fifteen quid on a boutique spritz "Lavender and Bergamot" to FIX his smelly bits But now he just smells like a decaying herb garden (Wait, did he just... oh! I beg your pardon! sharp intake of breath) I’m trying to have a cuppa and a biscuit on the rug But the fumes are in my Earl Grey, rising from his "mucky mug" It’s ruined my Digestive, it’s a tea-time tragedy He’s a biological weapon in the very first degree! Oh, he’s reeking, he’s humming, he’s in a right state A mingin' little monster that I’ve grown to truly hate He’s marinated nicely in a puddle of fox muck If you’re downwind of my Barnaby, then I wish you the best of luck It’s a Waitrose solution to a Wetherspoons smell He looks like an angel but he pongs like... HELL!! Phew! Seriously Barnaby, the bath. Now. Don't look at me with those puppy eyes, you’re absolutely foul. (giggle) Just... stay on the lino, dear. Oh, don't touch the carpet. darling. (Ooh, it’s a bit much, isn't it?)
