The Queen's Head - Richard Dawson

We’re hurrying home from Sheffield

Having received a phone call

From our tearful nephew

Whom we had left in charge

«It's happened again, the pub’s flooded again

Humber burst its banks this morning»

We’ve been over to see our mam

Who’s in the later stages of dementia

She didn’t understand that we had to go

A whole box of Maltesers got sent rolling all over the floor

How little we are, clung to the river’s edge

Come hell or high water, how little we are

Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

We park up by the derelict primary school

Tie bags for life around our ankles

And wade across the playing field

Through the council estate to the market square

The whole town’s come out to stand dumbly about

Staring at the filthy water

The guy from the vape shop

Ferrying his chocolate labs

Waves to us cheerily

From a leaky kayak

«I've lost everything apart from what counts»

Pointing to his dogs and then at his heart

How little we are, clung to the river’s edge

Come hell or high water, how little we are

Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

There’s a crowd gathered 'round the fat-headed butcher

Who’s back on his soap box again

Bemoaning the lack of adequate flood defences

Somehow putting it down to «an insurge

Of benefit-scrounging immigrants»

While handing out packs of sausages, black puddings, ham and haggises

Avoiding making eye contact, we hurry past the baying throng

Our beer garden lies in disarray

Tangled chair legs and drowned umbrellas

Crossing the threshold, we are overwhelmed

To find our neighbours whom we’ve never actually spoke to

Working frantically to save our pub

Lifting the tables clear and sweeping away the liquid mud

How little we are, clung to the river’s edge

Come hell or high water, how little we are

Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

How little we are, in the mouth of the world

Come hell or high water, how little we are

Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh