The Hammerhead Bar

Anto took me down to Whistler's place
It was like a scene from a dream
Tarantulas, drapes, magic mushroom cakes
Sharks hanging from the beams

Dave Ruffian was there with a sad-eyed girl
And the son of Ringo Starr
It was a night like any other, man
At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar

Four beer-bellied roadies from Uriah Heep
Were comparing stomach tattoos
Two had Satan, one had Tam Paton
One had a belt-shaped bruise

In a spotlit corner a famous DJ
Was showing a starlet his scars
Yeah it was all for one and one for all
At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

Three groupies were gargling umbrella drinks
Under the eye of the Ox
The first said to the second about the third
"She's as square as a fucking box"

Viv Stanshall turned up on cue
With a pickled skull in a jar
There was always something intriguing to do
At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

The local MP, a Tory grandee
Sir Bufton Fairbairn-Smart
Who dressed like a cross between Robert the Bruce
And Napoleon Bonaparte

Was busy murdering Billy Joel's
"Just The Way You Are"
It was business as usual, sunny boys
At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

On the stroke of midnight Whistler said
"Let us now toast the deceased!"
And he sank his snout in a stained-glass keg
Of alcohol and yeast

Nine Lithuanian dancing girls
Each sucking a fat cigar
Jitterbugged along the beer-strewn top
Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, of the Hammerhead Bar

Those days are gone, those dancing days
Of bacchanal, of drink
Whistler sleeps with mermaids
Groupies are extinct

The famous DJ is doing time
For acts lewd and bizarre
And only dust remains, boys
Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar

Of the Hammerhead Bar
Of the Hammerhead Bar
Of the Hammerhead Bar