When returning from sea, I'm longing to see
A beautiful face so fine
And I crave to partake of the finest of steaks
And drink the sweetest of wines.
Where the music is beautiful and the barkeeps are dutiful
And the women are oh so fair.
You'll not find a gatherin' in the co*k and Bull taver(i)n
'Cause we ain't got none of that there.
Chorus:
Hup! Hup! Oh!
Oh, the Bulls is not much to look at.
A broken-down pub, we confess.
The music is rough and the women are tough,
But, oh Lord, the beer is the best.
Not one friendly face you find in that place,
A pub for the hard drinkin' man.
The inside is rank and the outside is dank
And we go there as oft as we can.
Good folk won't go near it and constables fear it
Though we cherish her halls without doubt
No power could stay us or dare to delay us
From drinking her godblessed stout!
Chorus
When the thirst of the ages inside of us rages
Our gullets are dry as sand
We follow the route to the brew that's without
Compare in all of the land.
No matter the crop, oul' barley or hop
What comes from her kegs is quite sound
To he that says "Fie it!" I say he should try it
'Fore his wife puts him in the ground.
Chorus
Jesus Christ had a gift that did always uplift:
Turning water to wine for his flock.
Ah, but I bet hard cash that with water and mash
His touch, it would ail at the co*k.
The Bible has said that Christ only made red,
But here you find amber and brown.
'Tis not sacrilegious, for we gives a fifth of this
Brew to the clergy in town.
Chorus
Oh, the Bulls is not much to look at,
A decrepit old pub, there's no worse
The patrons are wary, the women are scary,
But they have the best beer on this earth.