I wish there was a pub called The Sir Tommy Shovel

It’d be lovely

Lovely it would be

We’d go for a pint

And a cauliflower cheese

And find somebody who agrees

With everything you say

Every single day

I wish there was a pub called The Sir Tommy Shovel

He’d never grovel

A noble man was he

And there we would be

With Sir Tommy’s portrait

Dimly painted on a varnished board

That hangs above the door

Just beside the outsize trout

On the saloon bar wall

And I would drink responsibly

And hold you like the angel

In the dark abandoned silo of my soul

Let’s meet in a pub called The Sir Tommy Shovel

It won’t be no hovel, ‘twill be lover-ly

And we’ll have a groove

And a vegan casserole

High above the gaping hole

Inside my memory

Of all you mean to me

I come by night

And I go by stealth

Oh let us drink Sir Tommy’s health

And I would drink responsibly

And hold you like the angel

In the dark abandoned silo of my soul

Hold you like the angel

In the dark abandoned silo of my soul

I will not be drinking in The Racist Loser

It’s not my kind of boozer