There is no private house in which people can enjoy themselves so well as at a capital tavern... No, Sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tavern Lit By Lamps
The tavern tables stay lit by the lamps,
These are the lamps of excellence.
My tables collect more money
And the energy is also collected.
May this tavern express the whole joy,
May we enter a real improvement,
And may the gates of this city be for sustenance.
These shopkeepers are so careful, more than you,
Let monsters and werewolves be dignified
And then the worst enemy is around.
The tavern is an absolute sanctuary,
A wonderful way of gambling and dancing.
poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall
Oh down at the tavern
the children are singing
around their round table
and around me still.
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how there is a pewter urn
pinned to the tavern wall,
as old as old is able
to be and be there still.
I said, the poets are tere
I hear them singing and lying
around their round table
and around me still.
Across the room is a wreath
made of a corpse's hair,
framed in glass on the wall,
as old as old is able
to be and be remembered still.
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how I want to be there and I
would sing my songs with the liars
and my lies with all the singers.
And I would, and I would but
it's my hair in the hair wreath,
my cup pinned to the tavern wall,
my dusty face they sing beneath.
Poets are sitting in my kitchen.
Why do these poets lie?
Why do children get children and
Did you hear what it said?
I only said
how I want to be there,
Oh, down at the tavern
where the prophets are singing
around their round table
until they are still.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Ode to Four Green Fields, RIP, in Royal Oak, Michigan
Four Green Fields has closed
That is why I write this ode
For year Joe Borkowski and I
We entertained many a gal and many a guy
After I played bass behind Pat McDunn and the Gaels
Who sung Irish tunes and told many Irish tales
Some were short and some were tall
In this Beaumont Hospital strip mall
Pat was popular at one time in his day
So were we at one time in the same way.
It was packed on Thursdays when we did perform
We were of Polish background, and for entertainers,
- who sang in Irish pubs, that was not the norm.
We were witness to odd things in the bar, things not that smart,
Such as a person who wanted get stuck with a dart.
There were many people who got engaged
Some of the people were deranged
But most of all it was,
A good place to have beer, food your favorite adult beverage,
Some waitresses were caught, buy a sting, serving minors who were underage.
But usually all was well in this pub,
Outside Royal Oak downtown, S/W 13 Mile and Woodward, which was one a many hub.
So farewell Woodbridge Tavern, Hurling Green, Deacon Brodie's Tavern
- and Four Green Fields, I'll see you later in the song Fiddler's Green*.
Joe and I'll entertaining crowds and talking and meeting people that we have seen.
poem by Joe Rosochacki
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If you have a good cellar at home don't go drinking at the tavern.
L'Escargot D'Or
O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
Ten sous have I, so I'll regale;
Ten sous your amber brew to sip
(Eight for the bock and two the tip),
And so I'll sit the evening long,
And smoke my pipe and watch the throng,
The giddy crowd that drains and drinks,
I'll watch it quiet as a sphinx;
And who among them all shall buy
For ten poor sous such joy as I?
As I who, snugly tucked away,
Look on it all as on a play,
A frolic scene of love and fun,
To please an audience of One.
O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
You've stuff indeed for many a tale.
All eyes, all ears, I nothing miss:
Two lovers lean to clasp and kiss;
The merry students sing and shout,
The nimble garcons dart about;
Lo! here come Mimi and Musette
With: "S'il vous plait, une cigarette?"
Marcel and Rudolf, Shaunard too,
Behold the old rapscallion crew,
With flowing tie and shaggy head . . .
Who says Bohemia is dead?
Oh shades of Murger! prank and clown,
And I will watch and write it down.
O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
What crackling throats have gulped your ale!
What sons of Fame from far and near
Have glowed and mellowed in your cheer!
Within this corner where I sit
Banville and Coppée clashed their wit;
And hither too, to dream and drain,
And drown despair, came poor Verlaine.
Here Wilde would talk and Synge would muse,
Maybe like me with just ten sous.
Ah! one is lucky, is one not?
With ghosts so rare to drain a pot!
So may your custom never fail,
O Tavern of the Golden Snail!
poem by Robert William Service
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I was conducted in the evening to a tavern where several of the weavers who advocate the principles of the People's Charter were in the habit of assembling.
quote by Henry Mayhew
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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People go to church for the same reasons they go to a tavern: to stupefy themselves, to forget their misery, to imagine themselves, for a few minutes anyway, free and happy.
quote by Mikhail Bakunin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Explanation
Love and Death once ceased their strife
At the Tavern of Man's Life.
Called for wine, and threw -- alas! --
Each his quiver on the grass.
When the bout was o'er they found
Mingled arrows strewed the ground.
Hastily they gathered then
Each the loves and lives of men.
Ah, the fateful dawn deceived!
Mingled arrows each one sheaved;
Death's dread armoury was stored
With the shafts he most abhorred;
Love's light quiver groaned beneath
Venom-headed darts of Death.
Thus it was they wrought our woe
At the Tavern long ago.
Tell me, do our masters know,
Loosing blindly as they fly,
Old men love while young men die?
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Aint Got You
I got a maseratti two by two
With snakeskin upholstery
Charge account at goldblatz
But I aint got you
I got a closet full of clothes
And no matter where I goes
You keeps a ring in my nose
But I aint got you
I got a tavern, a liquor store
I play the numbers, 444
I got mojo dont you know
Im all dressed up with no place to go
I got women to the right of me
I got women to the left of me
I got women all around me
But I aint got you, no I aint got you
I got a tavern, and a liquor store
I play the numbers, 444
I got mojo dont you know
But I aint got you
No, I aint got you
No, I aint got you
No, I aint got you
song performed by by Nazareth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Night
The room was penurious and common,
Hidden over a disreputable tavern,
The alley could be seen from the window,
Unclean and narrow. From below
Came the voices of a few workmen
Who were playing cards and having a good time.
There on the vulgar on the humble bed
I had the body of love, I had the lips,
The sensuous, the rosy lips of wine,
Rosy with such a wine, that even now
Here as I write, after so many years,
In my solitary house, I am drunk again.
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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For whoever is lonely there is a tavern.
quote by Georg Trakl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You don't go into a tavern to say your prayers.
Where is my Ruined Life ?
WHERE is my ruined life, and where the fame
Of noble deeds?
Look on my long-drawn road, and whence it came,
And where it leads!
Can drunkenness be linked to piety
And good repute?
Where is the preacher's holy monody,
Where is the lute?
From monkish cell and lying garb released,
Oh heart of mine,
Where is the Tavern fane, the Tavern priest,
Where is the wine?
Past days of meeting, let the memory
Of you be sweet!
Where are those glances fled, and where for me
Reproaches meet?
His friend's bright face warms not the enemy
When love is done--
Where is the extinguished lamp that made night day,
Where is the sun?
Balm to mine eyes the dust, my head I bow
Upon thy stair.
Where shall I go, where from thy presence? thou
Art everywhere.
Look not upon the dimple of her chin,
Danger lurks there!
Where wilt thou hide, oh trembling heart, fleeing in
Such mad haste--where?
To steadfastness and patience, friend, ask not
If Hafiz keep--
Patience and steadfastness I have forgot,
And where is sleep?
poem by Shams al-Din Hafiz
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The tavern is far, but I will walk carefully.
The world is a tavern and the way hereafter is our home.
The church is near, but the way is icy. The tavern is far, but I will walk carefully.
The church is near, but the way is icy, The tavern is far, but I will walk carefully.