[Verse 1: Liverpool Scouse-accented male MC, sharp nasal Scouse over pounding drums and fuzz bass] Thursday at the Anchor and the quiz is on the line Me and our kid at table four, and we're sittin' on a nine Terry's by the window with his blazer and his rules Been champion since the jukebox, and he treats the rest like fools He knows every king of England, every capital and sea Knows the height of every mountain, knows the Latin for a tree Final round is music and the quizmaster just grins Drops the needle on our tune, la, and the whole back room joins in Terry puts his biro down like the biro did him wrong Says "I'm not writin' that one, lads, 'cause that is not a song" [Hook: Scouse MC, shouted over the full band, organ stabs on every line] Tiebreaker, one point, all he had to do was name it Pen was in his hand, but his pride would never claim it Lost it by a point, la, and the point is he was wrong Can't win the music round if you won't call a song a song [Verse 2: Scouse MC, faster, the fuzz bass riding every bar] Papers get collected and the scores go up in chalk Terry's lot on forty, we're on forty, so they talk Quizmaster lifts the mic and says "Then here's the deal First hand up and right takes the trophy and the meal" He plays four seconds of it and Terry's hand is in the air Quicker than a seagull nickin' chips along the pier Whole pub holds its breath 'cause the man has never missed Thirty years of Thursdays and there's nothin' off his list So he stands up like a judge and he straightens out his tie Says "That isn't music," and he's lookin' me in the eye [Hook: Scouse MC, shouted, tambourine doubling the snare] Tiebreaker, one point, all he had to do was name it Pen was in his hand, but his pride would never claim it Lost it by a point, la, and the point is he was wrong Can't win the music round if you won't call a song a song [Verse 3: Scouse MC, kick-word lock on the two scoring lines, the kick landing on every word] Quizmaster says "Is that your answer, Terry, final call?" Terry says "It's noise, mate," and he says it to the wall So our kid puts his hand up and he only says one line Names the tune, then points at me: "And he's the fella wrote the rhyme" One point, one board, one trophy on the bar One man in a blazer who could never say what we are Now he's starin' at his biro like it's gonna change the score Knows the height of every mountain, don't know what the music's for Boss, la, sound, and next Thursday he's back in his chair And the first thing that they play is ours, and still he won't write it there [Hook: Scouse MC and the full band, everything in] Tiebreaker, one point, all he had to do was name it Pen was in his hand, but his pride would never claim it Lost it by a point, la, and the point is he was wrong Can't win the music round if you won't call a song a song [End]
