All those lonely blues songs, you might feel that you wrote 'em
You might be sad and think that life has kicked you in the scrotum
Be brave and wipe that teardrop from your eye
there's one more remedy you can try

Wanking your blues away
Wanking your blues away
If you haven't had a promise
And you haven't got a sister or a wife
And your brother's not keen
You can get to the promised land
The answer's right there in your hand
Try wanking to the rhythm of life

It's a source of some amusement
that the craft of self-abusement
was invented, so it's thought
by the Greeks and the Westphalians
perfected by Australians
developed by the Welsh into a competitive sport

Wanking your blues away
Wanking your blues away
Shirt on the floor
One hand and a metronome
And lots of boogie-woogie
The Cowman sits there on his farm
With loads of blisters on his arm
Wanking 'til the cows come home


It's time to take your trousers down
Lock the door and go to town
You can wipe away your frown and wank your blues away
Don't worry that you'll lose your sight
Make the world seem gay and bright
WANKERS OF THE WORLD UNITE and wank your blues away

Wanking your blues away
Wanking your blues away
It's a harmless hobby, it's what your right arm's for
And not for drinking lager
The basic kit for masturbation
Is a plonker and a hand and imagination
Keep wanking 'til you just can't wank no more
But don't forget to close the bathroom door