The clock strikes twelve and the bartender
Rings the bell, "Last orders please"
Like the foamy head in a drunkard's mug,
Barflies tend not to fly away
Like blessed drunks in the Fox and Hounds
Like silver scrapes in May
Now the pub has closed its doors
and most of you have gone away

Come landlord Jim, let's take a walk
Just there near the Red Lion Inn...
I know you own a pub yourself
and you'll want to know how popular it is...
well it's never said at all
but there's a drink that everyone needs
Beyond the hills back there you know
At the Four Winds Bar

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Four beers at the Four Winds Bar
All on tap and golden colour
One's John Smith's, it's extra smooth
The other one tastes utter s***.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

In hellish glare and inference
The sad man buys a ladies' drink
The reg'lars laugh and cuss him bad
And they cuss him very bad
Yes they cuss, him very, very bad,
Yes they cuss, him very, very bad
Very bad
Very bad...

The clock strikes twelve and the bartender
Rings the bell, "Last orders please"
The regulars at the Red Lion Inn
Find themselves at the Four Winds Bar
It's the lenience of the landlord
And the happy hour at ten
Just the place to hopelessly
Get pissed out of your head
And then came me...

Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!

Don't you touch my tankard
You stupid man
These hamly fists of mine
Will surely pack a punch
And don't forget your round
Whatever you say, it's next.

Drinkology... a beer?
Drinkology... whiskey?
Drinkology... some wine?
Drinkology... A do-o-o-u-u-ble sco-o-o-otch please.