When the hangover strikes
 And I open my post
 And the coffee is on
 And I'm burning my toast
 I let the battle commence
 I see a sun in the trees
 And a draught at the door
 With my head in my lap
 Theres a day to explore
 But I'm left without sense
 As the hangover strikes
 And I turn on the tap
 But the waters too loud
 And I'm caged by the fact
 That the battles not lost
 Is it the hair of the dog
 Or the baa of a lamb
 In a sheepish attempt
 To be half of the man
 That I might be or was
 
 When the hangover strikes
 And a mirror reveals
 That its midnight or bust
 And a drink does appeal
 Now the battle is won
 So the cure of the can
 Pours its heart out on me
 Though I'm feeling locked up
 But I cant find the key
 Well no damage was done
 
 Poor poor poor, poor shaken one
 Pour pour pour, pour me another one