At the back end of town at the unholiest hour you may find love in a Snug. But if your not in the know, sure you wouldn't even know it was there.
With my face stung with drink I am longing for my rest. Tuesday morning is dawning I'm still stood in my Sunday best. Can you hear the clicking of bootheels on barstools, see the bald chalkless tips of the pool cues and the three bar heater that is gasping for air. I'm remembering the day that you found me comparing field notes with all the other bowsies but on the third day I'm going to wise up again. There's a man whispering something profound but it falls on deaf ears and is drowned by the great slagging match that is reaching its final round. Husband turning to wife, little darling won't you bless me with your palm but In a haze of blue language she shoots him down. The worn haggard suit, who thinks I am a mute says Here kid, I never done no wrong I exhale with a grimace, then I burst into song. While remembering the day that you found me comparing field notes with all the other bowsies but on the third day I'm gonna wise up again, I swear. Still yer man's whispering something profound but it falls on deaf ears and is drowned by the great slagging match that is reaching it's final round. At the back end of town at the unholiest hour, keep walking. Let's go back to the day at the strawberry fair when your ghostly left hand picked a rosy red gem and we danced on the cobbles till the gritters were gone. Rain rain go away I'll come down another day. At the back end of town at the unholiest hour you may find love in a Snug.

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): David Kennan