EMPTY GLASSES
by
Harold Simpson & Daisy Hill (1945)

I stands be'ind the blinkin' bar as closing time comes round
And 'opes the stroke of ten ain't far before I 'ears it sound,
The room is full of noise and 'um just like a lot of bees,
I 'as to shout like kingdom come, "Time gents, time if you please".
Then when the last of 'em is gone I locks up for the night.
Then looks around and gazes on a most depressing sight.
Just empty glasses by the score and empty bottles too,
Those empty glasses make me sore; there's washing-up to do.
I ups and 'eaves a 'earty sigh and starts upon me job,
Then starts to dream of days gone by, I does, so 'elp me bob.
I dreams of gents in fancy dress I've somewhere read about
Who'd drink three bottles, nothing less, before they passes out.
I dreams that I can see them now, the good old-fashioned sort,
With 'and in air and lordly bow they drinks a toast in port.
Then when they've tippled all they can, that's more than I'd be able.
Each fine old English gentleman slides underneath the table.
Yuss, empty glasses that's my theme as I've 'eard speakers say,
Just empty glasses made me dream, one dream 'as come to stay.
A supper table laid each night, one empty glass is there,
"God send our boy back home alright," is me and mother's prayer.
And then I sort of trims my sails, starts washing-up like 'ell,
But can't 'elp thinking of what tales an empty glass can tell.
Oh, blast. I've broke one, what a shame, the boss'll think I'm canned
I'll 'ave to tell 'im that it came to pieces in my 'and.
Did I say empty glasses, why here's one with sumthin in,
I never lets a drink go by, so cheerio, chin, chin.