The Sir Tommy Shovel

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