When I was out walking, who’d you think I should see
Only Bob from the Saracens Head
We got talking ‘bout old times, how things used to be
Whose still with us and who is now dead

It was fun for a while – but mostly quite sad
He’s spent months looking out for a job
Scanning the papers and vacancy ads
But there’s no work for a landlord like Bob

He’s found nothing at all since they closed down his bar
Since the brewery called time on his life
Kicked out on the street, forced to sleep in the car
Poor old Bob, the two dogs and his wife

We went through a list of whose left here in town
It didn’t take long in us naming the pubs
Most of the locals around here have closed down
All that’s left are the wine bars and clubs

Times are a changing, nothing stays the same
And I realise things have to move on
But we’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone
We’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone

Friday night was the best, straight from work to the pub
We’d meet up in the snug at The Whale
Filled our pockets with money and our bellies with grub
All set up for a night on the ale
Well The Whale is now gone and the snug is no more
No longer home to an ale drinking man
When you go through the door, it’s a convenience store
They sell cider and beer in a can

The King Billy’s for sale, so’s The Harp and The Swan
Boarded up since early last year
The landlords were friends, but now they’re all gone
And there’s nowhere left to meet up for a beer

The Shakespeare, The Masons, Queens Head and The Bear
Have all gone the same way as The Whale
The Ball and The Bat, The Fiddle and Cat
Can all tell the same sorry tale

The Vaults and The Crown and The Chicks and The Ball
All consigned to the history books
Landlords worked hard but the banks took it all
Shared it out with those big city crooks

The White Harte, The Black Cat, The Red Cow and Grey Fox
Boarded, padlocked and chained
Hollow and empty like an old coffin box
Now there’s only a few pubs remain

Someone sent me a text, said The Bull could go next
And it’s not looking too good for the Horse
The Donkey and Drey is now the Star of Bombay
They serve lager with hot curry sauce

I played darts for The Globe, kept goal for The Crown
Sent down off breaks and spin for The Gate
But I just drink at home now the pubs have closed down
I’ve lost touch with my ale drinking mates

We held Dad’s wake in The Duke, the pub he liked best
I met Sally, my wife in The Vine
My sister worked nights in The Smugglers Rest
Now they’re all just a sign of the times

When the pageant hit town, we’d start at The Crown
Hitch a lift on the back of a cart
Work our way up the street, not knowing who you might meet
Then all end up locked in at The Harte

Sunday nights there was folk, at the Old Bird In Hand
They would play till the last one had dropped
The landlord played drums in a quite famous band
He once made it on Top of the Pops

Times are a changing, nothing stays the same
And I realise things have to move on
But we’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone
We’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone

The story’s the same from the north to the south
East to the west, they’ve all gone the same way
Those hanging on live each hour hand to mouth
There’s another one goes every day

Whether it be village or hamlet or parish or town
It was the place on which folk could depend
You don’t just lose a bar when the pub closes down
You lose touch with their family and friends

When the last pub left standing has to give up the ghost
And hand the keys to the man on the phone
With his shinny new suit and improbable plans
He’ll sell it back if you can pay off the loan

Then as night follows day, they’ll pull down old Bob’s pub
Build communities with gate and a wall
It’ll say Private Keep Out, they won’t want us about
That’s not what I call a commune at all

Those born and bred will have nowhere to go
Forced away from their roots in defeat
But what can you do when a bonus or two
Turns a village to a banker’s retreat

Times are a changing, nothing stays the same
And I realise things have to move on
But we’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone
We’re living in fear that the day’s drawing near
When the last pub left standing is gone

But don’t give up the fight, there’s a faint chink of light
They still haven’t pulled the old Saracen down
Maybe there’s a twist to the tale
Like the resurrection of ale
And we’ll still have a pub here in our town
Well, I’ll drink to that and I’ll be the first to the hatch
At the bar of the snug in The Whale