The Hammerhead Bar - The Waterboys

Anto took me down to Whistler’s place

It was like a scene from a dream

Tarantulas, drapes, magic mushroom cakes

Sharks hanging from the beams

Dave Ruffian was there with a sad-eyed girl

And the son of Ringo Starr

It was a night like any other, man

At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar

Four beer-bellied roadies from Uriah Heep

Were comparing stomach tattoos

Two had Satan, one had Tam Paton

One had a belt-shaped bruise

In a spotlit corner a famous DJ

Was showing a starlet his scars

Yeah it was all for one and one for all

At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

Three groupies were gargling umbrella drinks

Under the eye of the Ox

The first said to the second about the third

«She's as square as a fucking box»

Viv Stanshall turned up on cue

With a pickled skull in a jar

There was always something intriguing to do

At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

The local MP, a Tory grandee

Sir Bufton Fairbairn-Smart

Who dressed like a cross between Robert the Bruce

And Napoleon Bonaparte

Was busy murdering Billy Joel’s

«Just The Way You Are»

It was business as usual, sunny boys

At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar

On the stroke of midnight Whistler said

«Let us now toast the deceased!»

And he sank his snout in a stained-glass keg

Of alcohol and yeast

Nine Lithuanian dancing girls

Each sucking a fat cigar

Jitterbugged along the beer-strewn top

Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, of the Hammerhead Bar

Those days are gone, those dancing days

Of bacchanal, of drink

Whistler sleeps with mermaids

Groupies are extinct

The famous DJ is doing time

For acts lewd and bizarre

And only dust remains, boys

Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar

Of the Hammerhead Bar

Of the Hammerhead Bar

Of the Hammerhead Bar