Roadhouse Blues,The Roadhouse Rules!

On a bright Sussex morning, nursing hangovers laced with shame.

We hailed a local taxi cab with no one else to blame.

We’d blazed a trail through London,

Through Covent Garden holes.

The roadhouse was inviting, the questions that it posed.


We didn’t get to bed too early,

Sambuca is a Bitch.

The storm clouds are gathering,

A nasty scratch to itch.


Now we’re driving to safe Haven.

And the driver tells us tales.

Of Jimi Hendrix threesomes,

In a trippy purple haze


He lightens up the mood with his raconteur parade.

Of the festivals of old when the legends were made.

Keith howling at the moon, with his quintessential paranoia.

Jimi with his flying V, a six string destroyer.


We listen with both shock and awe; he regales us with his tales.

We laugh aloud with such a roar as the wind catches our sails.

Suddenly the hangover aint so bad.

But I’ve still got dogs breath.

Sambuca is a Bitch you know.


He drops us next to the rubbish dump,

And we claim our bows and arrows.

We wear our painted smiles a while,

But I’m really craving shadows.


The hangover from hell is back on the scene.

And I wish to switch places from nightmare to dream.

And I’ve still got dogs breath.

And now me Ead’s banging.

Sambuca is a Bitch you know.


We await the jolly raconteur,

To take us back to platform.

He tells us tales of LSD,

Orgies, girls and poor form.


He waves us by and we laugh with a sigh,

We heave our bags heading North.

The long trail home seems daunting at best,

Get on that train lad, in need of a rest.

And I’ve still got dogs breath.

And me Ead’s still banging.

Sambuca is a bitch you know.


My mouth is so dry and I’m thirsting for water,

I need to be home now, lambs to the slaughter.

The seagulls circle platform.

Mischievous as they fly.

Fighting for food, they push and they shunt

Come by me, I’ll poke your eye out you Cunt


But all in all it’s been a been a time to remember

Better it be June rather than December.

A worthy scratch to itch.

And my head is still pounding.

And I’ve still got dogs breath.

Sambuca is a Fucking Bitch you know.

But it was a boss night out,

Roadhouse Blues, the Roadhouse Rules!


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