Because of Melbourne’s bloody smog,
I’m panting like a mangy dog.
Ladies and gentlemen,
where is my Ventolin?
The first thing on a Sunday morn,
my missus tells me ‘mow the lawn.’
My God, she must be joking.
Can’t she see I’m choking?
She knows I can’t get off me arse,
coz I’m allergic to the grass.
Has anybody seen
my antihistamine?
My future’s kinda dubious.
My chest is like Vesuvius.
It’s just a question when
I cough up all this phlegm.
Oh, help me Lord, this life’s too hard.
I’m leaking like a Saint Bernard.
Can someone contact Pfizer?
I need a nebuliser.