Anto took me down to Whistler's place It was like a scene from a dream Tarantulas, drapes, magic mushroom cakes Sharks hanging from the beams Dave Ruffian was there with a sad-eyed girl And the son of Ringo Starr It was a night like any other, man At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar Four beer-bellied roadies from Uriah Heep Were comparing stomach tattoos Two had Satan, one had Tam Paton One had a belt-shaped bruise In a spotlit corner a famous DJ Was showing a starlet his scars Yeah it was all for one and one for all At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar Three groupies were gargling umbrella drinks Under the eye of the Ox The first said to the second about the third "She's as square as a fucking box" Viv Stanshall turned up on cue With a pickled skull in a jar There was always something intriguing to do At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar The local MP, a Tory grandee Sir Bufton Fairbairn-Smart Who dressed like a cross between Robert The Bruce And Napoleon Bonaparte Was busy murdering Billy Joel's "Just The Way You Are" It was business as usual, sunny boys At the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, at the Hammerhead Bar On the stroke of midnight Whistler said "Let us now toast the deceased!" And he sank his snout in a stained-glass keg Of alcohol and yeast Nine Lithuanian dancing girls Each sucking a fat cigar Jitterbugged along the beer-strewn top Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, of the Hammerhead Bar Those days are gone, those dancing days Of bacchanal, of drink Whistler sleeps with mermaids Groupies are extinct The famous DJ is doing time For acts lewd and bizarre And only dust remains, boys, Of the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead, the Hammerhead Bar Of the Hammerhead Bar Of the Hammerhead Bar Of the Hammerhead Bar