| Ripples round the bar they don’t know what to think
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| For prince of the pen has himself a new favourite drink
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| To blow on bruised skin takes away the sting
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| I’ve half a mind to take him for a fling
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| The most uncouth of colours that you have ever seen
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| 30mls of vodka lemonade and grenadine
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| The smoke makes me sick and i don’t know where to look
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| There’s a church mouse in the corner with her nose stuck in a book
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| And he says the flavour’s flambouyant
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| Each sip sweetly poignant with a wave of the hand and a flick of the fringe
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| It baffles the quibblers, nit-pickers, nut-nibblers and unusual weapon to
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| choose for a binge
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| Would these words sound the same on high street in broad daylight
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| But nothing escapes the ears of a playwright
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| He listens intently from the backseat of a Bentley
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| Let this feeling of change take hold of me gently
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| Now there’s fog on the Isis and the poets all blush
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| This scene is straight from the stroke of an impressionists brush
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| And now his glass is sat there next to mine
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| 30mls of vodka lemonade and grenadine |