<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357506" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Country Pubs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">We know those little country pubs,<br>By cross-road and by creek,<br>Where faithfully the landlord scrubs<br>His counter once a week,<br>And stands before his shining bar<br>To cater for man's thirst<br>With all the best; but where the meals are<br>He caters with the worst.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wottle you 'ave?' There's beer or brandy,<br>Rum or half-and-half or shandy.<br>Wine or whisky. Bottles wink <br>'Wottle you 'ave, boys? Name your drink' ...<br>But in the grimy dining room<br>A slattern lass of grease and gloom<br>Intones in accents charged with grief:<br>'Wottle you 'ave? There's corn-beef.' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the bar the talk grows gay,<br>The landlord beams, for trade agog,<br>And yokels wile dull hours away<br>Idly yarning o'er their grog ...<br>But in that cave of gastric woes<br>Grimly the hungry traveller eats,<br>To end by turning up his nose<br>And hoping to fill up on sweets.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Wottle you 'ave?' - The cups are cloudy.<br>Linen soiled. The waitress dowdy,<br>Comes like an avenging fate<br>Snatching at the greasy plate <br>Soggy cabbage; soapy 'spuds' <br>Droning flies and smell of suds.<br>Now she whines, like some lost soul:<br>'Wottle you 'ave? There's jam-roll.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357506" data-title="Country Pubs de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="We know those little country pubs, By cross-road and by creek, Where faithfully the landlord scrubs His counter once a week, And stands before his shining bar To cater for man's thirst With all the best; but where the meals are He caters with the ..."></div> </div> </div>

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