I used to sing this song 'hundreds' of years ago, which I learned from a friend of mine. Among my usual fare of ballads, it made a change. I came across an old cassette tape I'd recorded for my mum and there were yet more verses to finish off the song. Starting from the last verse of 'GUEST' which is slightly different:

It cost me ten quid in the magistrate's court
and some nasty remarks from the beak.
But the landlord's black eye makes I laugh till I cry,
But there won't be no folk club next week.

Well he don't want our custom and he don't want our trade
There's no profit in serving the locals.
It's them in big cars that 'e wants in 'is bars.
'E refers to us as 'they damn locals.'

Well we sits in 'is bars on a Saturday night
Cuz there's nowhere to drink if we don't.
But if 'e thinks we're going to see him through the winter,
You've got it, we bloody well won't!