We twisted you arm over Chinese Offered the world as we know it "Don't believe a word they've said" Blood through your sleeve, I just couldn't To the shop where a prick of a needle We slept-on all full of drink Pints of Guinness black as ink Swung the hammer to ring the bell The bell climbed up and then it fell What got said got in-between Sometimes whispers, sometimes screams Got drunk with the Butcher at Walsall Took a drag off your very first fag But the finest hour you gave When you turned and faced the wave More from Spirit Of The West