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