(back inside again)

 

There’s a bloke goes down our pub called John the Hat

Who’s always worth 10 minutes for a chat

Just mention what it is you need –

Wine from Spain, beer from Leeds

Christian Dior, GHDs

He’ll get ‘em, John the Hat.

 

The Champagne that you sold me was dead flat

With whooshes of weak tea and piss of gnat

It always left me full of gas

I’m pretty sure it’s not Wolf Blass

Coming as it did from Cas

Di’n’t it, John the Hat?

 

The G & D sells shoes for 10 quid flat

(No need to fret yourself about the VAT)

Designer suits of every name

Like Barbour, brands of equal fame,

All Haddlesey is dressed the same

Thanks to John the Hat.

 

I think that book you wrote though’s caused a spat

Cos you’ve upset again that bureaucrat

So have you blobbed a tax demand?

Or sold illicit contraband

Which now detains you on remand

Again, John the Hat?

 

But supplies have now dried up of all your tat

The G & D is getting worried that

Your barstool it is empty, bare,

Paul ordinarily w’un’t care

But Shirley’s got no underwear

Has she, John the Hat?

 

Shirl weeps to see the stool where you once sat

She’s run a raffle off of her own bat

So till we get to post your bail

To spring you out of Armley jail

Just keep sewing bags of mail -

         Best Wishes, John the Hat.