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| Pete Atkin sings
Secret Drinker by Clive James and Pete Atkin, [Much more at www.peteatkin.com] |
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| LYRIC: | |||||
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Perching high like an old-time man of law He travels on a barstool to enchanted lands And as the world before him swims and glows The secret drinker's only sure that he is real By the feel of his elbows and the steadily increasing Weight of his forehead in his hands And behind the bar Like turreted and battlemented towns of long ago The lines of coloured bottles swim and glow Brilliantly as at the day of wrath Or the year of the comet But the secret drinker is far from it Away from it all He can ease the present back into the past Staring at the pastels and the prisms on the shelf With the magic words that make the evening last The same again and have one for yourself He's a connoisseur He can space it out with chasers, he can let it burn It's a trick it takes a little while to learn You might see the youngsters of today sniff a cork and they vomit But the secret drinker is far from it Away from it all He can make the looming future lose its sting Staving off the pressure is a bargain at the price Of the magic words that make the angels sing The same again, go easy on the ice Perching high like an old-time man of law He travels on a barstool to enchanted lands And as the world before him swims and glows The secret drinker's only sure that he is real By the feel of his elbows and the steadily increasing Weight of his forehead in his hands that should be ceasing To tremble by now and beginning to resemble The hands of a man he used to know | |||||
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