I went to pub this evening to play my current gig
Place was dark and empty, just two man and a pig,
Or maybe it was a bulldog, I really can’t be sure of that,
Who can tell the difference, a pet was ugly, big and fat.

I opened up my PA, speakers and the stands,
Plugs are in the sockets, baby, guitar in my hands.
I’m ready to start shredding, rock’n roll and twist’n shout,
But before I started, these two men are walking out.

I’m staring at the landlord, sure he’s going mad,
Can’t complain for music though,
He knows - I’m not bad.
But when the pub is empty, I bet he can’t sell his booze,
Hard to make the profit, so he hates to pay my dues.

I’m read to go home now with no cash or fun,
Suddenly the pet showed up and said: stay right there my son.
I’m a magic bulldog! And I hate to see you lose,
Here is your dosh  boy, you just play for me your blues.

Landlord’s face is changing, he’s tapping foot and grinning,
Pub door gets wide open, lots of sipheads coming in,
Everyone is buzzing, place is really going mad….
Swear I’ll beg this bulldog to manage me and my blues band.