Where is your Moon Under Water
Where do you think is the best place to drink & pints clink with a nod and wink to George Orwell..
Ruse how do you choose your “Moon Under Water”
Tricky like picking between your own son & daughter
Orwell did reckon draft stout must beckon or porter
Not daft posh nosh supper places in Upper Slaughter
Holler for each blue collar scholar as this is their altar
Beacons of blushing bricks laid memory made mortar
Rugs hug stark stony slabs hops grabs beams dark
Tobacco treacle tones taints paints dreams we hark
Past embers spark cast gleams last wafts drift & lark
Same timeless fickle timber timbre tickles each fitting
Eases the blues folks flitting from their pews wits pitting
Shackles & hackles lose cackle crackle in flames spitting
Adored names amuse maraud the muse frames all sitting
Envelops smorgasbord horde games develops unwitting
Sublime times past their prime couldn't be fraughter
Pub co scams so many go just lambs to the slaughter
An inn to be the hub it oughter in Moon Under Water
No not that taunt of some expat haunt out in Malta
Ingredients nestle don’t wrestle in pestle & mortar
Can’t really falter a dearly loved pub's clearly ripsnorter
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