Reflections on an ultimatum from the wife

Hand me a bottle of Fosters,
I need to think for a bit.
I got pissed again yesterday evening
And Catherine says I'm a git

She's give me an ultimatum
To do with my conduct of life.
I cannot have beers when I want them
If I'm to have her for my wife

Catherine is fresh faced and lovely
(though feminine beauty must pass,
And even the fairest of women
Looks more fair through the end of a glass).

And a crowd of Miss Universe hopefuls,
Their beautiful eyes all aglow,
Can never be quite as alluring,
As bottles of Beck's in a row

If I should be parted from Catherine
I dread what our families would say.
Yet when I reach the end of a six pack
I just throw all the empties away

And many another six pack
Will sit in the cooler and wait.
And it won't warn me off other six packs
Or bollock me 'cause I'm home late.

Yes, if ever I parted from Catherine
I'd do so with many a tear,
But Catherine's only a woman,
And a Stella's a bird and a beer.

It's tough making such a decision,
I need to take time, time to think,
So I'm just popping down to the boozer
To work it out over a drink