There's a place in Vancouver you all know so well
It's a place where they keep rot-gut whiskey to sell
They also keep boarders and keep them like hell
And the name of the place is the Grand Hotel.
In the Grand Hotel when the loggers come in
It's amusing to see the proprietor grin
He knows they've got money, he'll soon have it all
"Come on, boys, have a drink!" you will hear Tommy call.
Oh, the bartender laughs as the money rolls in
They drink beer and whiskey, champagne, rum and gin
Till they all get so boozy they can't drink no more
And the loggers lay scattered all over the floor.
"Four bits for your bed, though you slept on the floor
And the breakfast you missed, that will be four bits more
And a four dollar meal ticket good at the bar
And a pass back to camp on the old Cassiar."
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