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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.

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