You're in the pub at half past ten, the money for the cure all spent again, Trying to figure out who's carrying and where they'll be that day Forget about the night before when you were flying for an hour or more And move across to the Central Bar hoping that you'll see
One of them hard cases, soft faces, who grip you with their deadly smile, The grip it slowly tightens and the grin gets slowly deeper And beads of perspiration stand out upon your cadgilation Someone takes the pressure off and calls out more porter
Soon enough the tap runs dry and the afternoon goes slowly by The Barman looks on warily as your mates come drifting in Someone says there's a session on, a tarnished bard has just hit town Move across to the Widows; see if you can rustle up the entrance fee from
One of them hard cases, soft faces, who grip you with their deadly smile, The grip it slowly tightens and the grin gets slowly deeper And beads of perspiration stand out upon your cadgilation Someone takes the pressure off and calls out more porter
A woman you know buys you your last and the evening goes flashing past Bridie's screaming as your eyeing the slops behind the bar The party crowd is gathering, the banjo, fiddle and mandolin The cider flagon hunt is on, if you haven't got a tosser Won't you bring along a dozen of
One of them hard cases, soft faces, who grip you with their deadly smile, The grip it slowly tightens and the grin gets slowly deeper And beads of perspiration stand out upon your cadgilation Someone takes the pressure off and calls out more porterTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
