Best Barman Poems
Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate was a very evil man,
He used to eat his dinner from a filthy frying pan,
And when he’s finished eating he’d play “catch me if you can”
With his desperado first-mate known as Dirty Deadeye Dan.
Now Dan was quite a ladies man, but also fond of booze,
In bars and streets and hotels he liked to drink and cruise,
He used to taunt old-Peg Leg Pete by dragging up old news,
Like Pete had only ever needed half a pair of shoes.
One day Pete had quite enough and things got pretty scary,
Confronting Dirty Deadeye Dan whose mood was always lairy,
A sudden hush fell on the room when Pete clumped in the bar
And Dan called out: “Hey, Peg-Leg, hop on over, have a jar.”
Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate clasped the pistol on his hip
And snarled at Dirty Deadeye Dan: “Enough of your damn lip.”
The floozy sat upon Dan’s lap was dumped onto the floor
And Dan rose to his feet and hissed: “You’d best limp out the door.”
Across the sawdust, blood-stained floor they faced each other down,
And you could hear a pin drop from the other side of town,
Eyes were locked and fingers twitched and seconds seemed like days
The tension burned unbearably and shimmered in the haze.
Both men drew their pistols and both men fired fast,
Flame spat from the barrels with the bullets roaring past,
But neither man could aim for squat and when their guns were done
They’d killed two people in the bar but they weren’t either one.
The barman Blind-man Billy Bragg and the floozy Scar-Faced Sue
Lay dead as dead as doornails, as doornails tend to do,
And through the pall of gun-smoke and the mist of rum and beer
Deadeye Dan called out to Pete: “We’d best get out of here.”
And so they did, they fled the bar, and vanished in the night,
Back to their ship, The Crippled Cock, and sailed on out of sight,
Never to return to shore, and never seen again,
The rumour is they sank and drowned just off the Spanish Main.
The moral of the story is that when you draw a gun,
Be prepared to end your days always on the run,
“Or in your case, always on the limp,” said Dirty Deadeye Dan
To Peg-Leg Pete the Pirate, that very evil man.
Categories:
barman, funny, evil, men,
Form:
Verse
Wee Luck McGee, came into the pub
And the Barman started pouring a beer
"No Tanks for me, a martini you see
Is what you'll be serving right here"
Then McGee with one hand, pulled a jar from his coat
Removing the lid with the other
Plucked out the olive, and swilled down the Gin
Then abruptly ordered another
With each martini he knocked back with cheer
An olive was placed in the jar
And when it got filled, He screwed on the lid
Then started to walk from the bar
But the barman called out "What's that about ?"
To McGee with the jar he did cling
"It's me Mrs you know, she told me to go
And get Her a jar of these tings"
Categories:
barman, humor,
Form:
Light Verse
In Sandy on a Sund’y
Can’t even buy a pie
The High Street is a ghost town
From some Kafkaesque sci-fi.
Not a single caf is open
No point in asking ‘Why?’
So I’ll just go down
To the Rose and Crown
And give their roast a try.
The film set has now altered
To a Sergio Leone
The barman with the hang-dog look
Is sitting all alone.
I enquire after Sunday Lunch
His reply comes Brummily spoken.
‘No food today,
I’m afraid to say.
The chef’s right arm is broken.’
So homeward I trudge
To a can of stodge
That I’d been keeping handy
And I curse the day
I decided to stay
In this Sabbath-subserving Sandy.
Categories:
barman, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
Blue diaphane, tobacco smoke
Serpentine on wet film and wood glaze,
Mutes chrome, wreathes velvet drapes,
Dims the cave of mirrors.
Ghost fingers
Comb seaweed hair, stroke acquamarine veins
Of marooned mariners, captives
Of Circe's sultry notes.
The barman
Dispenses igneous potions ?
Somnabulist, the band plays on.
Cocktail mixer, silvery fish
Dances for limpet clients.
Applause is steeped in lassitude,
Tangled in webs of lovers' whispers
And artful eyelash of the androgynous.
The hovering notes caress the night
Mellowed deep indigo ?still they play.
Departures linger.
Absences do not
Deplete the tavern.
They hang over the haze
As exhalations from receded shores.
Soon
, Night repossesses the silence, but till dawn
The notes hold sway, smoky
Epiphanies, possessive of the hours.
This music's plaint forgives, redeems
The deafness of the world.
Night turns
Homewards, sheathed in notes of solace, pleats
The broken silence of the heart.
- Wole Soyinka -
Categories:
barman, heart,
Form:
Verse
A cuddly Harp Seal, when just a bub,
Swam further south and slipped into a pub,
The barman gave a wink,
Have this whisky to drink?...
“No way known, it’s Canadian Club!”
Categories:
barman, humor,
Form:
Limerick
I'm standing here in limbo as
I see him wander in.
That no townsman has warned him
is truly a mortal sin.
He slides up to the bar and
takes a curious look around.
He orders a shot of whiskey.
No one else has made a sound.
The barman just ignores him
as he has the others here,
and keeps on mopping up the bar
as I try to wipe a tear.
I still have strong emotions
with no way to express them.
I don't know about the others.
They all look like wooden chess men.
When that dying gunman hexed us
with that evil, malevolent curse,
he didn't doom us all to death's call
but with something even worse.
He said we'd stay almost forever,
exactly as we were right then,
until some day, some one would free us.
But he didn't tell us when.
I'm a dance hall girl who hasn't danced
for lo these many years.
I just stay as frightened as I was then
as I try to wipe my tears.
I see the stranger stiffen
as he searches for some cash.
He'll reach for it forever.
The spell has hit him in a flash.
So I know he's not the one
who can break the wicked spell.
We'll keep doing what we're doing,
but I guess its just as well.
For the only one who'll walk out
of this doomed saloon alive,
is the hombre who can break the spell
that keeps us in this dive.
When the spell has been broken
we will all be turned to dust,
and be blown to Earth's corners
with the wind's first heavy gust.
For town of Rotgut contest.
Categories:
barman, scary,
Form:
Quatrain
I got up it was way past noon
Thought I’d go for a walk.
Then, it started to rain
I’m talking heavy rain
The rain that soaks you rain.
I saw my neighbour Mrs Pratt
She was out walking her little dog.
You’ve guessed, they were wet too
I’m talking really wet.
They were both dripping.
I said "hello" and she grunted a greeting
Not happy I thought, but it’s only rain.
Then a bus drove by and hit a big puddle,
And then Mrs Pratt screamed as the puddle
engulfed her.
Strange I thought, she is already wet.
But then I realised why she had screamed
the poor little dog was not moving.
I went to the pub and the barman said
“You look wet”
“Do I” I replied, " I just saw a dead dog".
Written on 21st of September
For contra poetry contest sponsored by Jesse Rowe.
Categories:
barman, dog, funny, rain,
Form:
Free verse
Tonight there is a match on telly
The lads are coming round
most of them are married
So my home is to be the neutral ground .
If any of their wives ring
I'm to pretend that I am deaf
and they've all elected me to be
head barman and chef.
I've got Guinness and lager
A crate or two of Yorkshire ale
Newcastle brown and bitter
So the booze just cannot fail .
I've made three lovely shepherds pies
but I asked the lads which veg I should use
I've just been reading their replies
Now I'm totally confused .
One lad doesn't like cabbage
Another doesn't like swede
and it seems broccoli and cauliflower
are members of a dying breed .
The veg that the lads want
From all the replies I've seen
are lots of French fried onions
and cans of Heinz baked beans .
12 drunken farting Yorkies
My house would smell like an old cess pit
So they'll get what their given
They can take it or leave it .
Lemon sole for starters
Chocolate cheesecake for dessert
and if I get a single complaint
I'll kick them where it hurts.
Categories:
barman, friendship, boy,
Form:
Verse
That's not my elephant, the barman said, when last I went a boozing
Then threw at me a grin filled glance, that was a long way from amusing
You brought him here, you bring him home, your game I’m not abetting
So pack your trunk, get out, your barred, no more drink you’re getting
So sadly I made the long journey home, my poor legs weak as jelly
I could perhaps have caught a cab but they would not take Nellie
Later as we passed a takeaway, the warm smell assailed my senses
I ordered spaghetti and parmesan cheese, Nellie just had lettuce
My door key I could nowhere find, when at last I reached my home
I had no choice but to ring the bell, the wife Ella soon came down
Her words, would cause a crimson blush, on face’s of horse traders
I have not experienced such awful fear since I was in 2nd graders
She insisted that, ‘Nellie’, was but just, a figment of my imagination
And that if I didn’t get off to bed, I’d end up in prone prostration
Now I’ve lost my new best friend, and sweet alcohol fuelled nights
She’s taken from me the will to live. and rewritten the bill of right
4th in Contest, That's Not My Elephant, by Matt Caliri
Categories:
barman, funnyme, , 2nd grade,
Form:
Ballad
Above a cloudy jar of brine
That floated greenish hard boiled eggs,
Beside a Schlitz beer waterfall
That told bar time (ten minutes fast),
A taxidermied Jack-A-Lope
With rabbit ears and tiny rack
Stared marble eyed into the dark.
“We don’t have many Jack-A-Lopes
Back home in any city bars,”
I told a man who served us drinks.
“At prices there, that’s no surprise.”
The barman said without a smile
And told us of the Jack-A-Lope:
Time was you looked, you’d find his kind,
But rarely in these mountain slopes.
They only bred in wintertime
And only in electric storms.
It’s rumored round that milk that came
From mother Jack-A-Lopes could cure
Whatever walks on twos or fours
So rare it was most called it myth
As much as Sasquatch ever was.
Until one day a dowser came
Divining where to dig a well.
And gripping his good witching stick
Could swear he saw the front branch twitch.
He scrunched his eyes and looked again.
“No, something’s in that undergrowth.”
Up popped the branchy antlers of
This fearsome critter, Jack-A-Lope.
Now as it was this dowser had
A more than common whiskey thirst.
And had to live his life downwind
From ordinary decent folk.
Like pictures of Napoleon,
He stuck his hand inside his coat,
Produced a flask of sour mash,
And threw it at this portmanteau.
Some say it hopped away afraid,
But those that know have winked and said,
“That animal attacked the flask;
Without their bourbon Jack-A-Lopes
Will fade away until they’re gone.”
Outsiders paid some license fees
For hunting season, dates of which
Cannot be found on calendars.
The most were poached as trophies for
Hotels, saloons and brothels where
The mounted heads amazed their guests.
No hunter had had an interest in
An animal that can’t be killed
Because it never ever was.
But now so heavy was the hunt
The Jack-A-Lope was soon extinct,
So every one of them was killed
To prove one time they did exist.
The bar grew quiet just as if
Some meaning might be understood.
I pointed at my empty glass
And asked the barman pouring drinks,
“What’s on that plaque below the head?”
“Some Latin words, a kind of crest.
A family motto more or less.”
Categories:
barman, dedication, environment, humanity, irony,
Form:
Blank verse
Wedding Reception
We’ll settle by the bar and watch
the women dance, then split a likely
pair, when we think we stand a chance.
I’ve one eye on the bridesmaid, with
the skirt that’s riding high – showing
off the daisies, tattooed upon
her thigh.
The groom is still hung-over;
can’t find the pregnant bride. She dodged
into the box-room – best-man by
her side.
Mothers-in-law are screaming,
‘war,’ handbags all-aflail. Uncle
Jack is on his back. George is green
and frail.
So we’ll linger here and
guzzle beer, till the barman calls
the time. Then make a play for a
pair who sway – join the pantomime...
...Hope you like the big one, with the
bird’s nest in her hair. Because I’m
heading for the bridesmaid, with the
skirt that’s riding high, showing off
the daisies...
Categories:
barman, romance,
Form:
Free verse
I once dated a weatherman
At first he had a sunny outlook…
He had our future all mapped out
But he suffered periods of deep depression so our relationship got rained off
I once dated an optician
He said he could see our future was together
But soon I stopped wearing rose tinted glasses ...
He was always smashed and making a spectacle of himself
I once dated a librarian
He claimed he was an open book
But I couldn’t cope with the periods of intense silence
So the writing was on the wall and I threw the book at him
I once dated a farmer
He ploughed straight into our relationship
But I discovered he was a muck spreader
And when he started playing the field I ditched him
I once dated a baker
He was very upper crust and well bred
But he couldn’t get his dough to rise
So I toasted his future and said goodbye
I once dated a hairdresser
He was very trim and didn’t have a hair out of place
But he was always making cutting comments
So I cut the relationship short
I once dated a doctor
He had a wonderful bedside manner and he made my temperature rise
But he became very cold and started injecting poison
I lost my ‘patient’s’ and got sick of him so I gave him the cold shoulder
I once dated a barman
He wore very attractive glasses
But he was always on the pull
So I gave him sort measures and 'called time' on our relationship
I once dated a retired policeman
He was an arresting sight
But when he took down his particulars
His truncheon was all floppy – so I bailed out
N/A in Just make me laugh Contest judged on 08/30/16
Submitted to take the dagger from my heart please contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings
27th August 2016
Categories:
barman, humorous, jobs, relationship,
Form:
Free verse
Aunt Bertha’s been drinking with Mable
Ten Guinness cans litter their table
They’re ‘nissed as a pewt’
This fact they dispute
But cannot stand up, they’re unable!
Old Mable can’t rise from her seat
She’s cussing (words I daren’t repeat)
Then she yells, “Get help quick
Cos I’m feeling quite sick"
Which angers the barman named Pete!
Two students help Mable to stand
She blurts, “Getting drunk wasn’t planned”
As they guide Mable out
She hears the barman shout
“NEXT ST PATRICK’S DAY YOU ARE BANNED!”
Categories:
barman, celebration, drink, humorous, ireland,
Form:
Limerick
Self-portraits and portraits of memory,
Numerous notables I am not able to remember,
The barman at a hostel, cabbies at Paddington, the laughing policemen,
The thick and thin stink of places,
It passes through sometimes, like a travelling circus,
Last night I confused a self-portrait with a portrait,
A painted tear ran down,
Then I realised it was me,
The tear tasted like the sea,
Jamais Vu,
Don't recognise myself, I don't know what to do,
Pity myself probably, then paint the portrait of it,
Self-portrait I meant,
Forget it...
Just fling those spirits at me,
Kick through the canvas,
Stick your head through,
Encapsulate the experience to a pill for me,
A pill named death
Categories:
barman, art, memory,
Form:
The song that is playing
Reminds me of you
Takes me back when we first kissed
The touch of your lips
Filled my poor heart with bliss
It felt like a dream come true
And from the verse to the bridge
Where there's breaking of hearts
The singer croons I love you
I swear the world could end right there
Because I loved you too
So barman pour me a drink
Double scotch on the rocks
Let me dream...
About a girl I used to know
Should have never let her go
How I miss her so much...
Mix vodka and soda
Bubbling with joy
Let me dream...
About a woman that made me feel
The man I dreamed to be
Play that song one more time
Let me dream
Categories:
barman, dream, lost love, relationship,
Form:
Lyric