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2:17
Words
Verse 1
Nine years of Thursdays in a room with a broken radiator
Eleven chairs, and you always took the one in the draught
You brought your own kettle in because ours was a disgrace
You made a shipyard welder read a novel about a lighthouse
And he finished it, and he argued with us about the ending
That is a whole life turned around in an unheated room
Pre-Chorus
You're going back to Scotland and you say it's no big deal
It is a big deal, Grace, and somebody has to say so
Chorus
Thank you for Thursdays, for room two, for the kettle
Thank you for never once making anybody feel stupid
You gave this city nine years of your evenings
And asked for a biscuit and a lift to the station
Verse 2
My English is yours, all of it, the good and the strange
The words I use wrongly and the ones I use because you did
You corrected me once in nine years, gently, and in private
I have never forgotten the word or the way you said it
There are twenty of us who could say a version of this
And most of them won't, so I'm saying it for them
Chorus
Thank you for Thursdays, for room two, for the kettle
Thank you for never once making anybody feel stupid
You gave this city nine years of your evenings
And asked for a biscuit and a lift to the station
Bridge
We kept the room. We kept the Thursday. We kept the hour.
Somebody else puts the chairs out now, and badly
We'll argue about endings without you for a while
And then we'll be all right, because you built it to stand
Outro
Safe home, Grace. Take the kettle, it was always yours.
Room two, six o'clock. We'll keep a chair in the draught.
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