Vintage Cider drove you mad.
So, Just two pints, no more,
Reinforced by a baseball bat,
Pub Landlord Bill's Law.
It could have strange effects
A fact which was little known.
The mind could be lucidly clear,
The body have a will of its own.
Walking back to camp
One warm summer night
I wasnt quite sure
If my senses were right.
I could hear this voice drifting
A strange, varied pitch
And saw old Scouse Hatchard
Singing, sitting in a ditch
I managed three pints he said
Before Old Bill threw me out
I got this far home
And me legs gave out.
I found this ditch nearby
And I know it sounds silly
But it's quite comfy in here
Though the water's a bit chilly.
I pulled him free
And helped him along
In return he taught me
This Canadian song.
Arm in arm we walked,
Each supportiing the other,
No friendship as firm
As that of a beery brother.
And we sang our way
All the way back to base,
Weaving along
At a steady pace.
So many years ago but
To prove my story's true
I thought I'd just sing
That little song for you.
