Chorus:
Oh I'm the man, the very fat man,
That waters the workers beer,
Oh I'm the man the very fat man,
That waters the workers beer,
And what do I care if it makes them ill,
If it makes them awfully queer,
I've a car and a yacht and an aeroplane,
From watering the workers beer.

Now in days of old when beer was sold
For tuppence a pint or less,
The quality of the brew you got
Was anybody's guess,
Now Watneys and Ind Coope
They are the same wherever you go,
And you've got me to thank for that
And my travelling chemical show

Now I know what my customers want,
That's how I've gained my fame,
The computer made me the ideal pub,
So I've made them all the same,
So whether you live in Tunbridge Wells,
Or reside in Cheltenham Spa,
There's the same imitation horse brasses,
Above the formica bar.

But it seems that some of me customers
Have been putting up a fight,
They've been asking for Ruddles County
And it's given me a fright,
If business keeps going the way it is,
I don't know what I shall do,
I suppose in the last resort,
I might produce a decent brew.