There's a place I once lived, a long time ago
It's a long way from here and I called it There
The church folk were good, so good in fact
That social service visits were rare

But the pub was a dive, full of hate, greed and lies
All drugs were on sale with patter like 'cool'
The glasses were weapons, some smashed, some scythed
(The motive's addiction, keep buying you fool)

And then I moved house, some time ago
To a small place a long way from There
I could call it Here (I did, while it was home)
It was special, the details I'll share:

The church was a den for liars and thieves
But mainly for something called power, I've heard
Brokers of housing, the media, the land
Believing their slaves a convenient herd

It's brightest spot - a large building with thatch
Where most of the locals would meet now and then
And all of the evil that hit them was sorted
By good folk, both women and men

They were none of them paid, it wasn't 'career'
It wasn't official, this club
Yet it worked all the same, and kept most of us sane
The old building with thatch was the pub