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Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

In New Wave days and times of Kitchen Sink,

The Club could seem the centre of the world.

Spent workers went inside to swallow drink;

Tempers might flare, cheap insults would be hurled.

 

Booze sharpened anger, retribution swelled,

As unattended wives would cast a glance;

The sum of all emotions was expelled

In cold revenge with little left to chance.

 

And there’s a h...

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