The train to Norwich stops at Ipswich,
Which is where I mean to go,
Once alighted catch a taxi,
Sorrel Horse in Barham ho.
Liverpool Street is very busy,
With commuters homeward bound,
None are destined though for Barham,
Sorrel Horse, so sweet the sound.
No bitter pill awaits in Barham,
Bitter beer that makes me smile,
Draught pulled pints of pure enjoyment,
Satisfaction Sorrel-style.
There’s a meal to match the finest
Mother ever could prepare
Freshly cooked and plenty of it
Sorrel Horse it draws me there
When the sun sets over Barham,
There’s a place that’s free from sin
Warm your back, the fire beckons,
Oh Sorrel Horse, most welcome inn.