RICHARD BURTON

I'm drinkin' at a tavern called The Bleak House
I'm thinkin' back to Pontrhydyfen
Mix equal parts of coal dust and whiskey
And you'll get a good idea where I've been

The bus crashed on the way to Port Talbot
But this road runs to Cardiff, then the sea
There's a crush of wankers on the Riviera
And they'll kill themselves to get a glimpse of me

I'm on top of the wall
And I don't know which way to fall

I always knew she'd be my Cleopatra
Those violet eyes wouldn't leave me alone
It's a love that could choke Eddie Fisher
With a diamond the shape of a kidney stone

I'm on top of the wall
And I don't know which way to fall

A vodka bath
A newspaper's wrath
It's all just an icepick in my head

A castle's keep
Another night without sleep
But slumber will come easy when we're dead

In heaven we're all reading "Under Milk Wood"
In hell we work for the BBC
But the Miner's Arms is open for business
And they'll roust themselves to buy a pint for me

I'm on top of the wall
And I don't know which way to fall
I'm on top of the wall
With no Shakespeare, sex or alcohol

Written by Michael Whyte
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