It’s a desperate place to be sure.
To walk in my forefathers footsteps.
But I come back again and again.
The black pull of the dark pint.
There’s a search on for sure.
Looking for better days
In charlies bar we call for quiet
And I strain my ears,
Trying hard to hear the laughter
And I won’t go back again for sure
Until the next time.
When once again bronze jackie charlton will welcome me,
With my uncle on my shoulder.
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