Lyrics

Wraggy, King of the cheap pint.
A self-proclaimed, beer connoisseur.
Clad in a crumpled hoodie,
drinking lager, that has no name.
It’s got a nice fizz, and don’t taste like soap!
So it’s BANGIN!

He’s a can-do man with a six-pack plan,
Aldi specials, Poleish lagers,
Corner shop tins of Carling.
Own brand beers go down well while watching Bargain Hunt!
He don’t judge them till he’s had four!
Ten out of ten is BANGIN!

From a broken fridge, of label-less beer,
He spins the foam of fortune.
Each gulp a gamble for better or worse.
Each can of warm sad misfortune.
He’s the king of the cans, the sultan of swill,
He’s BANGIN!

Barred from Weatherspoon’s he home-brews his own,
a swampy broth from mouldy malt with hop-less hops.
No Nectaron, No Cashmere, No Verdant yeast.
None of that fruity nonsense here!
Just a beer that smells of feet!
Ten out of ten is his beer!

Wraggy, the one-man rebellion,
A self-proclaimed, beer connoisseur.
Drinking bargain-bin lager, he’s the King of the cheap pint, the sultan of swill.
The Pied Piper of pound-shop pilsner!
Ten out of ten
He’s BANGIN!