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Spirit Of The West Labour Day Drinking Man i'm a part of the furniture, this boozer's my home i've been here forever, this barstool's my throne i'm drinking short whiskeys with a half pint of stout i smoke senior service or one of yours when i'm out and i'm always out the women say i'm foul, the men say i'm harmless i'm the source of entertainment and conversation tireless the vicar gives me sermons, the young ones give me cheek you can read all about me in the bogs on high street on high street these may seem like wasted years ah, but the stories i could tell when these shoulders were broad and strong and i served my country well i'm not a picture of perfect health but i'm feeling no pain today so you can fill my glass again and i'll grow old my own way i've woke up near the barley fields like a sack on the side of the road with a belly full of drink, and a chill running through my bones if i dropped dead tomorrow, you'd hear the righteous say that iw as not a christian man, and i pissed my life away that's what they'd say -repeat first verse- -chorus- |
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