Roger Whittaker

Roger Whittaker - Master of the house

rate me

Roger Whittaker - Master of the house


Come on you old pest

Fetch a bottle of your best

What's the nectar of the day?

[Thenardier enters with a flask of wine.]


Here, try this lot

Guaranteed to hit the spot

Or I'm not Thenardieir


Gissa glass a' rum

Landlord, over here!


[To himself] Right away, you scum

[To customer] Right away, M'sieur


God this place has gone to hell

So you tell me every year

Mine host Thenardier

He was there so they say,

At the field of Waterloo

Got there, it's true

When the fight was all through

But he knew just what to do

Crawling through the mud

So I've heard it said

Picking through the pockets

Of the English dead

He made a tidy score

From the spoils of war


My band of soaks

My den of dissolutes

My dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts.

My sons of whores

Spent their lives in my inn

Homing pigeons homing in

Then fly through my doors

And their money's as good as yours


Ain't got a clue

What he put in this stew

Must have scraped it off the street

God what a wine!

Chateau Neuf de Turpentine

Must have pressed it with his feet

Landlord over here!

Where's the bloody man?

One more for the road!

Thenardier, one more slug o' gin.

Just one more, or my old man is gonna do me in.

[Thenardier greets a new customer.]


Welcome, M'sieur

Sit yourself down

And meet the best

Innkeeper in town

As for the rest

All of 'em crooks

Rooking their guests

And cooking the books

Seldom do you see

Honest men like me

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