I came home around 7 or 8
There was dinner on the table, she already ate
I said, “I’m sorry, Myrtle,” but all she did was moan
There once was a time when the moanin’ was hot
But after seven years of marriage I’m sorry, it’s not
She yelled and said, “Why weren’t you home?”
I tried to hug her and apologize
But she flew into the toilet and started to cry
I told her that I was out late at work
‘Cause we’ve been real busy and my boss is a jerk
She didn’t even hear me, she didn’t even care
I was drinking Firewhisky or havin’ an affair
I used to love her and I swear I still do
But when we’re out on a date they shout “You-Know-Who”
That’s the price of bein’ famous and she cant cope,
We’ve gone to counseling and there’s no hope
We stick together just for the kids
Would you rather run off with The Boy Who Lived?
I said, “I’m sorry, baby, forget what I said.
Come out of the toilet, let’s go to bed.”
It really doesn’t matter, because you’re already dead
1, 2, 3, go
Don’t ever marry Moaning Myrtle
Don’t ever marry Moaning Myrtle
Never marry Moaning Myrtle
Whoa
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