Guitar shaped box

I have to ask you a favour-
You filled my lav, we fell in love
That was little or no labour
You know how you were saying you wanted a baby?
Well I’ve been thinking and I think you are crazy

Put that thought in a guitar shaped box and seal it with a kiss from me
I never got my credits from the school of hard knocks because some big boys stole em from me

Gaucho man, head honcho man
What makes you better than me?
Nothing I see apart from pure greed
As far as the eye can see

I put that thought in a guitar shaped box
But I never got down to burying it
The cattle in the manger grazed all around it
Like a sketch from a book by James Herriot

(chorus)

Gaucho! Gaucho!
Book by James Herriot!
Oucho! Groucho!
No no no you sorry iriot!

Whose rind is it, nobody’s fault
The wrong and rinding woad
Keep your destiny in the front of your head
Boy you gotta carry that load