The Queen's Head

We're hurrying home from Sheffield
Having received a phone call
From our tearful nephew
Whom we had left in charge
It's happened again, the pub's flooded again
Humber burst its banks this morning

We've been over to see our mam
Who's in the later stages of dementia
She didn't understand that we had to go
A whole box of Maltesers got sent rolling all over the floor

How little we are, clung to the river's edge
Come hell or high water, how little we are
Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

We park up by the derelict primary school
Tie bags for life around our ankles
And wade across the playing field
Through the council estate to the market square
The whole town's come out to stand dumbly about
Staring at the filthy water

The guy from the vape shop
Ferrying his chocolate labs
Waves to us cheerily
From a leaky kayak
I've lost everything apart from what counts
Pointing to his dogs and then at his heart

How little we are, clung to the river's edge
Come hell or high water, how little we are
Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

There's a crowd gathered 'round the fat-headed butcher
Who's back on his soap box again
Bemoaning the lack of adequate flood defences
Somehow putting it down to, an insurge
Of benefit-scrounging immigrants

While handing out packs of sausages, black puddings, ham and haggises
Avoiding making eye contact, we hurry past the baying throng
Our beer garden lies in disarray
Tangled chair legs and drowned umbrellas

Crossing the threshold, we are overwhelmed
To find our neighbours whom we've never actually spoke to
Working frantically to save our pub
Lifting the tables clear and sweeping away the liquid mud

How little we are, clung to the river's edge
Come hell or high water, how little we are
Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh

How little we are, in the mouth of the world
Come hell or high water, how little we are
Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh
Ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh, ahh, ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh-ahh