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Poem

In the Barley Tavern I do hear all sorts of stories,
based on many home conflicts, or musing on past glories,
but now and then a funny tale is uttered at the bar,
I’d never hear too often, and is a mite bizarre.

I’d heard that Dennis Flowers was in a situation,
where he was in a desperate need of an operation.
Of course he made it through, because he’s back here in the bar,
with beers lined up on the towel and showing us his scar.

For Dennis, this became, his fifteen minutes of pub fame
when spruiking his experience, of operational acclaim,
and once the crowd left and dispersed, Dennis whispered in me ear,
“Have you ever stood outside the pearly gates, trembling with fear?”

So all bravado Dennis spruiked was a nerve riddled front,
but he convinced his closest mates that a medal’s in the hunt.
I’m about to hear the sordid truth that Dennis tried to hide,
now that it’s only him and me, and the words he will confide.

“I was on the operating table; the anaesthetist beside me,
with Doctor Gordon smiling, and acting rather nervously.
I said “Doctor, it’s my first operation; look I’ve got the shakes.
He said ‘it’s mine too. Forgive me, if I make a few mistakes!”

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