“Pour me another” is all that I hear
When I’m down the pub at this time of year
I don’t want your Vodka, Archers or Rum
And I don’t want the drinks set aside for your Mom
A drop of the black is just what I need
Pour me a pint, or maybe two, or just three
It pours so gently into the glass
A perfect pint, it’s in it’s own class
With its beautiful body and its creamy white head
I reach out my hand and I’m easily led
“Good things come to those who wait”
How true are those words that seal my fate!
My intentions are good, my intentions are true
I’ll have just the one … or maybe a few
As I down the first, the second and more
I converse with wisdom about legends of yore
My words of great wit just continue to flow
I’m at peace with the world, there’s a definite glow!
And so this fine evening has drawn to a close
I put one foot in front and just follow my nose
Through the town centre and straight up the hill
Best call me a taxi … I think his name’s Bill!
But there’s no need to worry, there’s nothing to fear
I’ll be back in the bar in good time for New Year!
Copyright © Jacqui Waldron