This is an august evening sometime in a wet July
Seventy seven is heaven if ever you're passing by
No need to recall it all, just the laughter in the air
Dunedin is freedom, and we've done much more than we would dare to share
But here we go tonight down the hill to Henry Pike
Tony and Don joke with Jim as we walk the steep and frozen streets
Gail laughs at me and then Gina and Hamish and Nigel join in
Ice on the Canongate steps, and the harbour sparkles so smooth and clear
Soon we're on Princes Street, filling the footpath with noise - and we're here
Through the doors of Henry Pike tonight
Shuffle is pounding the Eagles on board the Pittsburgh train
One table, no chairs anywhere, so we huddle around the bar again
It might be cold outside, but it's smoky warm in this crowd
Listening and dancing and drinking and talking far too loud
Henry Pike would feel at home tonight
Too soon it all ends, eleven pm and it's closing time
Battle the cold to the Octagon, salty hot chips to buy
Slowly we wend our way up the hill to home and bed
Soon we'll come back down the hill to Henry Pike