Yvesdelyle at 22:25, 30 January 2013

2013-01-30T22:25:55Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 08:25, 31 January 2013
Line 76:		Line 76:

	[[Category:Songs]]		[[Category:Songs]]
	[[Category:Mong]]

Yvesdelyle at 08:05, 29 January 2013

2013-01-29T08:05:04Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 18:05, 29 January 2013
Line 1:		Line 1:
	This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 75, AS XLIII.		This version sourced from [[The Mangy Mongol songbook]], page 75, AS XLIII.

	==Lyrics==		==Lyrics==

Maximillian at 08:31, 12 February 2009

2009-02-12T08:31:34Z

New page

This version sourced from The Mangy Mongol songbook, page 75, AS XLIII.

==Lyrics==

Early one evening 
Just as the pubs were opening 
A traveller was walking down 
A cold and rainy street 
He saw a door ajar 
Entered he a public bar 
Said, "Landlord, I would like a beer 
And something nice to eat.

I fancy some crusty bread 
And roast beef of old England 
Butter from the churn 
And tangy homemade pickles too 
And if you think you could 
Draw some bitter from the wood 
I'd be quite content to quaff 
A foaming pint or two.

I'll sit down by your open fire 
And contemplate infinity 
The quiet of your hostelry 
Shall enter in my heart 
And if a regular 
Should chance to come into the bar 
Maybe I'll engage him in 
A contest of the darts."

Come in, says the landlord, I've got 
Pre-packed fish paste sandwiches 
And soya sausage substitute 
I purchase by the tonne 
So if you fancy it 
I could defrost a bit 
And smother it up with ketchup 
On a supermarket bun.

I'll sling you a plastic pot 
Of super-sparkle-ready-brew 
As advertised on telly 
By a famus rugby scrum 
No filthy barrels here 
We serve hygenic beer 
Safely pasturised inside 
This aluminium drum.

So sit down by my fire, Squire 
I'll turn the logs on right away 
Or maybe you'd prefer to play 
My latest fruit machine 
Three cherries in a row 
That should set your heart aglow 
Or how about my jukebox 
That should really set the scene."

So the traveller sat down beside 
The polystyrene inglenook 
Plastic beads were swaying 
To an electronic sound 
On his bun began to chew 
Sank his pint of ready-brew 
He gave a ghastly gurgle 
And fell dead upon the ground.

"O dear," says the landlord 
As he turned the colour telly on 
"Another fatal accident 
The eighth this week, I fear 
If they cannot hold their own 
Why don't they stay at home 
We don't half get some funny 
Customers round here."

[[Category:Songs]]
[[Category:Mong]]

Public Bar - Revision history

Yvesdelyle at 22:25, 30 January 2013

Yvesdelyle at 08:05, 29 January 2013

Maximillian at 08:31, 12 February 2009