Last Orders

The wind blew hard over the Dock Road
Bringing chip papers and the smell of the sea
It was last orders all over the city
And nearly last bus time for me

A double round was speedily summoned
To wash out the reality
As Dean Martin flowed out of the juke-box
And echoed across the Mersey

Jimmy Sullivan sleeps in the corner
His harmonica lies on the floor
His wife has arrived to collect him
Again, like so often before

Mad Mick got laid off in November
He’s engrossed in singing My Way
He’s been drinking hard through the winter
With the last of his redundancy pay

The double whisky is Kinsella’s downfall
He’s certainly had more than a few
His horse did better than usual
Came in at eleven-to-two

Outside one lone dog is barking
As a girl has a row with her friend
I turn my collar against the weather
Another face with no money to spend

Goodbye to one more lost weekend
And another pay packet drained
Hello to another blue Monday
And the last bus home in the rain