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I was strolling to the entrance of the Barley Tavern,
when I was passed at quite a rate by angry Billy Brown.
He’s mumbling and cursing before he kicked the Tavern cat,
and blamed it as the reason for his marriage breaking down.

With the cat completely winded and in need of instant care,
while Billy stormed inside the Tavern I comforted the cat,
and it’s obvious that Bill was in need of therapy,
or he wouldn’t act malicious, to the cat like that.

So with the cat back on its feet and purring like it should,
it’s time for the Barley Tavern and to drink a soothing beer,
although I’m sure that Ken the barman with a subtle handball
would steer me across to Bill and to clear the atmosphere.

I sidled up to Billy who was staring into space,
across three glasses in a line that were filled up with rum,
to start a conversation, I said to Bill, “how’s your wife?”
but then that ignited trouble - “Yer can stick ‘er up yer bum!”

Where do I go from here? What do I say to Billy next?
After a period of silence, I said “can I help you Bill?”
But in a fit of fury, Billy glared, and snarled, and spat,
“if you’re the bloody culprit; you’re the bloke I’m gunna kill!”

If I’m the bloody culprit! The culprit for bloody what?
There’s a need for therapy, and I’m thinking back to Roger.
I knew that Bill’s a salesman, who’s away from home a lot,
but someone’s pulled the trigger; who sounds like an artful dodger.

“A bloke’s away all through the week, tryin’ to earn a quid,
and what he misses on the road, is loving with his wife,
but when loving on the weekends goes all through the night,
a neighbour’s visit in the morning can cut yer like a knife.”

With his rums all going down at quite a steady sort of pace,
to keep Billy rambling on I thought I better shout him one.
It appears he needs my therapy that comes from good advice,
so I asked a ticklish question, “what has your missus done?”

“What has she done!” Bill shrilled a tone that filled the public bar,
“I buy her flowers; buy her rings; and take her out for tea,
and scrimped and saved enough, for a deposit on a house,
then you stand there, and you ask me - what has she done to me!”

I thought it best that I step back, and maybe shut my gob,
for I’d say that Bill discovered that his world is not okay,
but Bill continued with his rant, “that ‘old duck’ from next door
changed everything this morning with what she had to say.”

“And it’s me who copped the blame for her inconvenience,
but I don’t like being interrupted when we’re bein’ more than friends,
and when I took a breath, the ‘old duck’ made her sarcastic plea,
‘Can't you two at least stop all that racket on the weekends?’”	

And after Billy Brown had blubbered out his private matter,
I imagine that the incident has yet to run its course,
and after lining up another rum for him to dull his pain,
Bill asked me if I knew a lawyer who dabbles in divorce.
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