My Kind of Tavern

This is the place I find to be better than home
where booze and perfume greets your nose
The bar and the navel-high, swivel 'round stools
is my family table these days
Don't talk too loud as you pass the pool table
and, for Godsake, you best watch your head
when you walk by the dartboard on this Friday ev'nin
cause the game goes on long after you're dead

I'll be damned, there walks in old Chuckie Grable
Ain't seen him for about three whole years
I wonder if he'll pay me back - I won't hold my breath -
for a hun'dred fifty-six weeks worth of beer?

There sits the reason I can't say my "esses"
over by the dying neon sign
His name is Chad Baker and I think he is sleepin
don't wake him and we'll do just fine
It's been a year ago damn near to this very day
when a barfly spun her web and caught
both me and Baker and the trouble 'came vi'lent -
he's the toughest sombitch I've ever fought

Hey, sit on down b'side me; I've got the first round
and I'll probably buy you another
In this place we've had our fair share of trouble and strife
but at closin time we all leave as brothers