Hear the sound of glasses chinking as old friends say cheers,
Smell the scent of burning tobacco, there’s no smoking ban here

If at this time you were to suggest it, you’d be thought of as demented
Our tale takes place some forty years before this law is implemented

Out through the door into the cold night the cigarette smoke billows
And at the bar, his mouth ajar a drunken man is heard to bellow

“Service please!” he screams as his fist bashes the polished mahogany
With the rage of a man who finds his wife breaking her vow of monogamy“

Pipe down a minute,” yells the barman, a sentiment returned in kind,
“I’ll get you your lager in a minute, now, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“And who are you, you wee shite? I’ve been waiting here for weeks,”
“I’d say it’s been closer to five minutes, and here they call me Heap.”

“What kind of stupid name is that? Your parents off their head eh?”
“Aye they were as a matter of fact, it was either that or Eddie.”

“Anyway Heap, I don’t want your life story, I want a bloody drink
“So move your arse and get me one,” Heap didn’t even blink.

“Mind your manners will you pal? Or service may be refused,I get enough arguments at home; I don’t come to work to be abused.”

“Well just get my a bloody pint then, you insolent wee prick
By now I could have had a pint and ordered another fucking drink.”

“I’ll leave you here to cool down, just take a deep breath mate,I’ll retrieve your beverage in a minute or two, sorry about the wait.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, I’m the customer, I’m always right.”
“Well I’m the barman, what I say goes and I say that’s a load of shite!”

“Grab your coat and grab your hat, get out of here you’re barred,”
The man chuckled at the barman, “I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard.”

Heap said no more and leapt over the bar, with one thought in mind,
The patrons knowing the barman well, grabbed their drinks and stepped aside

The drunk he rolled his sleeves up, and Heap, he did the same.
With a stern look upon his face that said, this is not a bloody game

Now he wasn’t short, standing six foot tall, but his enemy was taller still
But Heap knew that there is always a way if you have the will

Like David and Goliath, Heap and the drunkard were outmatched
But in this case the giant found him a tricky man to catch

He’d learned to fight in the back yard on those rainy summer days
Where fathers smoked and drank and taught their son the brawler’s way

The drunkard took a mighty swing and Heap, he hit the floor,
But he didn’t fall with the blow, he fell three seconds before

The punch it came swiftly, to end the match in just one bout
And it probably would have worked if Heap’s legs didn’t give out

His opponent was off balance, so Heap jumped to his feet,
Rising with an upper cut that knocked the drunk out into the street

It has faded into legend,
not many retain memories of that night
Where Muscular Dystrophy saved the day
and helped Heap win that fight.