Home for a rest
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best,
I've been gone for a month, I've been drunk since I left;
These so-called vacations will soon be my death,
I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest.
We arrived in December and London was cold,
So we stayed in the bars along Charing Cross Road;
We never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak,
Kept the shine on the bar with the sleeves of our coats.
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best,
I've been gone for a week, I've been drunk since I left;
These so-called vacations will soon be my death,
I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest.
[Take me home]
Euston Station, the train journey north,
In the buffet car we lurched back and forth;
Past odd crooked dykes through Yorkshire's green fields,
We were flung into dance as the train jigged and reeled.
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best,
I've been gone for a week, I've been drunk since I left;
These so-called vacations will soon be my death,
I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest.
By the light of the moon she'd drift through the streets,
A rare old perfume so seductive and sweet;
She'd tease us and flirt as the pubs all closed down,
Then walk us on home and deny us a round.
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best,
I've been gone for a month, I've been drunk since I left;
These so-called vacations will soon be my death,
I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest.
[Take me home]
The gas heater's empty, it's damp as a tomb,
And the spirits we drank like a ghost in the room;
I'm knackered again, come on, please take me soon,
And don't lift up my head till the twelve bells at noon.
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best,
I've been gone for a month, I've been drunk since I left;
These so-called vacations will soon be my death,
I'm so sick from the drink, I need home for a rest.
