(Stan Arnott)
A hundred yards, a hundred yards
A hundred yards, a hundred yards
And I'm one hundred yards away from home
I've been out on the town, care of Newcastle Brown
And I don't think I'll get home this a-way
This a-way
The pub door is shut tight, I'm alone here in the night
And I'm one hundred yards away from home
I can't shout, speak or stutter as I lie here in the gutter
And the last bus flashes by over my tie
Over my tie
My foot's stuck down a drain and it's coming on to rain
And I'm one hundred yards away from home
I bet I look superb with my head propped on the kerb
I can see my home in the flash of a neon light
That split the night
Now I hear the steady beat of a policeman's hobnailed feet
And I'm one hundred yards away from home
So in this prison cell I lie with tyre-marks on my tie
Take a heed, young man, wherever you may roam
You may roam
If you think you're the wild rover make sure you don't fall over
When you're one hundred yards away from home
(as sung by Hamish Imlach)
Tune: Five Hundred Miles