You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a month
I've been drunk since I left
These so called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
We arrived in December and London was cold
So we stayed in the bars
Along Charing Cross Road
We never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak
Kept the shine on the bar
With the sleeves of our coats
You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I've been gone for a week
I've been drunk since I left
These so-called vacations
Will soon be my death
I'm so sick from the drink
I need home for a rest
Verse #2