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Lord Bateman runs an inn out on the A65 Sort of place where everybody drinks before they drive Weekends runs a motorbike to Scarborough and back He's not too many brandies from a second heart attack John Barleycorn he works the land and drinks at Bateman's Inn And every evening toasts to all the things that might have been Tells the world that once he had a trial for Hull KR Now he watches them on TV in the corner of the bar Bateman gets up early lifts the latches on the gate Seven horses stabled and the family sleeping late Fourteen hundred acres two daughters and a son He'll ride the eastern coast and back before the morning's done Barleycorn he's up at dawn and working off the beer Same thing every day of every week of every year Hears Lord Bateman racing by along the county lanes And pulls his jacket tight against the coming of the rain... Lord Bateman meets the storm that's coming in from the shore Speeding over Quarry Hill at 85 or more There's rain to take the wheels away rain among the glass And rain to wash the blood into the tarmac and the grass In the months to come John Barleycorn he sits and drinks his fill Measures out his life between his pocket and the till So down the generations Bateman's son behind the bar While Barleycorn he sips his beer and watches Hull KR. |
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