Sit up, fed up, low down go round
Down to the bar at the place I'm at
Sitting drinking, supereficially thinking
About the rinsed-out blonde on my left
Then I said, "hi" like a spider to a fly
Remebering what my little girl said
She was common, flirty, she looked about thirty
I would have run away but I was on my own
She told me later she's a machine operator
She said she liked the way I held the microphone
I said my, my, like the spider to the fly
Jump right ahead in my web