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Albert's Night Out

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Below is the poem entitled Albert's Night Out which was written by poet Josie Whitehead. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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Albert's Night Out

Now think well of this story, you beer-loving blokes.
 It’s often recounted with humour by folks
     Who know the Three Horseshoes serves mighty strong ale,
     And it’s this which attributes so much to this tale.

After downing six pints of the pub’s strongest brew,
Albert Downing stood up and said his adieu.
     He then zig-zagged off home down a quiet country lane,
     And not till next morning was he seen again.

Albert’s wife went to bed, for she thought he’d be late,
But at four in the morning her fear became great,
     For she woke in the dark quite alone in her bed,
     And fear overcame her and filled her with dread.

There was nothing to do but to wait until day.
And then she’d discover where Albert had strayed,
     For with six pints inside him, he wouldn’t go far,
     And was probably sleeping out under the stars.
Albert drunkenly staggered back home to his bed,
But mistook his own gate for the farm gate instead.
     He was feeling quite drunk, as no one can deny,
     And spent the whole night with a sow in her sty.

 With his arms wrapped around her, he spoke of his love,
“My darling, my dearest, my sweet turtle dove.”
     And nestling beside her, he snored all the night,
     But when he came to he had reason for fright

For a couple of policemen were calling his name,
And to wake with a hangover seemed such a shame
     For he and the sow had no cause for lament,
     For what a good night she and Albert had spent.

So remember old Albert as you next stagger home
And pay good attention to where you do roam
     For the sow may be warm and your night quite content
     But that farmer’s now charging a fortune in rent.

Copyright 2012

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  1. Date: 11/26/2012 7:26:00 AM

    I am in hysterics Josie, what a comedy of errors and to think it is true. Maybe the guy lost his glasses! I need to fave this and hope you get busy to post more. Can't tell you how much I enjoyed the great wit...British of course! :)

  1. Date: 11/11/2012 8:07:00 AM

    This little piggy stayed home and look what happened. Great story.

  1. Date: 10/30/2012 1:50:00 PM

    Too funny! First time I am reading your poetry-very entertaining;)

  1. Date: 10/30/2012 12:38:00 PM

    Funny tale! Terry

    Whitehead Avatar Josie Whitehead Date: 10/30/2012 12:58:00 PM Block poet from commenting on your poetry

    Thank you - and a true tale. The Three Horseshoes Inn is in a quaint little thatched cottaged village called Powerstock, in West Dorset. Google this and you'll see it. My uncle lived down the road and told me this tale, in a Dorset accent, of course.