Ye Olde Hogs Head

Welcome to the Hogs head The local ye olde pub The ale tastes like urine And there's maggots In the grub. There's straw on the floor A pee bucket by the door And rats scurry in groups of ten or more. The busty wenches serve the ale And over the centuries There's been spoken Many a tale Gossip soon gets far Tankards flow with ale. There by the fireside Is a secret door where Dick Turpin often hides. Over by the bar is Robin Hood And his merry men Their very merry And drunk again. The place is a den of iniquity Pickpockets and theif's You can always get a Stolen purse or sheep real cheap before you leave. The regular drinkers often burst into song In a drunken stuper their often out of tune And the words come out wrong. The place is really smelly And you have to watch your step you do Just in case you step on and get pig poo on your shoe. The place never closes And all the posh folk Turn up their noses at such a hovel. But your always welcome Why not come on down And give it a go Or you'll never know. Peter Dome.copyright.2014.June.