Mr. Loveday’s Good Evening Store

Down the road around the corner is a liquor store
And Mr. Loveday sells his stuff at noon and night
There is a colored poster hanging at the glass-front door
That shows Charles Lindbergh doing his first flight

The light inside from a street lamp that he never bought
Reveals pictures from the seaside where he's never been
A Mr. Peckles, his best friend, a man of profound thought
Who used to be the private tailor of the Queen

He's known, to come in every day at nine
And that's his accepted address
Twenty years they've been fighting about what wine
They should drink to celebrate their daily chess

A third man, Mr. Cony, knows exactly they don't know
The rules of chess and how they always play it wrong
But he's so firm in thought he thinks he has no need to show
So he prefers to leave the things as they belong

And relies on the granted sympathy
Of those who choose to join him on a drink or two
(He's) passing them with gloomy prophecy
That shows no sign of light

And John the Poet who they're calling Mr. Stew
(For a tragic Irish love that he lost years ago)
Is telling stories that no one understands
While Mrs. Applebee, the lady with the funny bow

Is getting stoned on wine and gaily claps her hands
Her husband once had been a sailor on the "Mary Rose"
A decent man who bravely sailed the seven seas
Drowned in the bathing-tub at Mrs. Applebees'

[Guitar Solo]

Sunset; darkness overwhelms the sky
You hear the laughter and the songs they gaily bawl
As they decide to have another glass of rye
It's getting late but that matters not at all

And they fall silent as the night is moving on
They might remember some old friends or childhood days
But they're easy and their gailty's never gone
Having found a home at Mr. Loveday's place