A Spit And Sawdust Pub
Jukebox on in the corner
a group of lads playing Pool
arrows being thrown at a dartboard
and a drunk acting the fool.
Loads of blokes in football shirts
watching a live game on the T.V.
a woman sipping at her Orange juice
while her partner knocks back Whisky.
Four chaps sit around a table
there playing three card brag
as one of them counts his winnings
the others go outside for a fag.
The pub gets noisier by the hour
words are now slurred due to the drink
some customers are now so drunk
they don't care what anyone may think.
Last orders is shouted out loudly
the landlord wants to call it a night
but before he can close the doors
he has to break up a drunken fight.
So that's a night in the rough house pub
as English as Cheese on Toast
a plate of Fish and Chips
or a good old Sunday roast!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Down the Pub on a Saturday Night
Saturday night in the pub
lots of things going on
lads playing pool
couple of older gents
playing dominoes.
A gang of drunken girls
walk in all wearing Pink
they're out on a hen night
they shout a lot then there off.
Football's on the television
so the pubs fairly full tonight
and as there's two big screens
you watch one then the other.
The smokers stand outside
puffing away at their fags
but as it's raining hard
their soon back inside.
Two blokes start arguing
punches are thrown
it gets broken up
the landlord chucks them out.
Then a woman falls of her stool
and she knocks herself out
but as she lies there for ages
people carry on drinking.
A young bloke throws up
the barmaid hands him a mop
when he finishes cleaning it up
he orders himself another pint.
Saturday night in the pub
lots of things going on
it's a British institution
and a way of life.
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost Horizons
The last horizons I can see are filled with bars and factories
And in them all we fight to stay awake...
Drink enough of anything to make this world look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
She had nothing left to say so she said she loved me
I stood there grateful for the lie...
Drink enough of anything to make this girl look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
Turn summer trees to bones and ice
Turn insect songs against the night
With words we build and words we break
Im drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves...
Drink enough of anything to make myself look new again
Drunk drunk drunk in the gardens and the graves
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Forgot That It Was Sunday
The motel lights were blinkin
On my chartreuse four door lincoln
On the dock the fish were stinkin
I simply didnt have a care
And the old men sit round the cracker barrels
The children hum their christmas carols
The train tracks all run parallel
But theyll all meet up one day
On a dusty pew in a vestibule
Sits the devil playing pocket pool
Hes waiting for the next poor fool
Who forgot that it was sunday
We used to tell each other lies
With our orange plastic button eyes
In a former life on a motel chair
I was charlie parkers teddy bear
Yeah, me and bird wed stay up late
I used to watch him contemplate
While his horn would sit by the window and
Wait till it was time for him to blow it
On a dusty pew in a vestibule
Sits the devil playing pocket pool
Hes waiting for the next poor fool
Who forgot that it was sunday
The only song I ever knew
Was moonlight bay on the avenue
These are the tales from the devils chin
Charlie I couldve been a contender
And the old men sit round the cracker barrels
The children hum their christmas carols
The train tracks all run parallel
But theyll all meet up one day
On a dusty pew in a vestibule
Sits the devil playing pocket pool
Hes waiting for the next poor fool
Who forgot that it was sunday
Who forgot that it was sunday.
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Happy Family
playing the role of the happy family,
acting carefully like a perfect family,
putting a lie,
in everyone's eye,
making promises that can't be broken,
putting smiles that can't be taken,
feeling bad and not happy,
but being good at acting happy.
playing the role of the happy family,
father, mother, sister and brother,
but none of them bothers,
everyone is all alone.
talking in a different phone,
talking with a different language,
eating at the same table everyday,
acting happy by every way,
playing the role of the happy family
but there is always the quite,
for every single day and night.
wearing a faked smile,
letting between each one of them, a mile
watching together the television,
but each one is seeing it from his vision,
trying to love and care,
but they can't even share,
each one is in adifferent place.
wearing a big mask on his or her face
a mask of a big smile like a clown,
as all of them are living in a different town,
but still playing the role of the happy family,
still acting like a happy family
still wanting to make us believe that they are a family.
poem by Sarah Abu Zeid
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eat
Cold and dark in the morning
talk comes with a price
it is a bargain for the waitress
and diners get what they need.
The eggs are served with sympathy
for another birthday missed
the road is more than miles for
the trucker who takes them over hard.
Booth number 9 is an omelet and oatmeal
a preacher and acolyte looking for a church
the preacher's collar is frayed and yellowed
in service to a god who speaks too softly.
At the table by the door the farmers drink
coffee and talk of weather tractors prices
they have the look of a dying breed not because
they are old -their sons are off to college the
army the city or anywhere else
daughters will wait
not one of them will marry a farmer.
A young couple passing through
sits in number 8 close almost huddled
the boy counts his coins the girl looks cold
the waitress brings hot tea
'It's on the house honey.' They order toast
to share, she slips ham onto to the
plate when the cook's not looking
'I'll take that outta your tips.'
he never does.
The woman at the end of the counter
tattoos a glass with her lips
she is the blue plate special one egg
one pancake two strips of hard salty bacon
the long night gives her an appetite for
comfort and something real before going home
to wash the haze of stale cologne out of her hair.
Street lights go out
the sun promises warmth
diners pay bills homage thanks
and go out to live in the light
the waitress cleans tables
then counts her tips
She floats from counter to table
to booth serving coffee water eggs toast and
some things not on the menu
reassurance hope sustenance for the day
she takes their orders brings what they need
and all of this beneath a sign that says EAT.
poem by Ronald Shields
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Life Lesson At the Lone Pine Saloon
One night
I watched a pool shark
Take this guy’s entire paycheck
One game at a time
Over the course of
A long evening.
A pool shark will never
Beat you by more than a ball or two.
He doesn’t want to kill your hope.
He wants you to keep playing.
He wants you to think that it was all luck
Next time things will be different.
He wants you to double the bet
And try again.
By the end the looser
Was very drunk
And lacking any money to go on
Stated a fight.
The pool shark picked up
A pool ball and
Calmly, professionally,
Beat the looser
Unconscious.
Clok! Clok! Thud!
That’s why they tell you these stories
These Cinderella stories
They want you to keep trying
Just a bit longer.
There is still a little more
They can get out of you
Before the beating begins.
poem by Allan Thorne
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The Bar
On Friday I went into this dimly lit night time bar
the jukebox was playing the blues by some bygone star.
I wanted to be alone so I sat in a dark corner spot,
nearby a couple were kissing and getting passionate.
The atmosphere was relaxing and I was reflecting on my day,
one drink, then two, and then another went down the same way.
The kissing couple had a break and each smoked a cigarette
they spoke softly of love, and kissed each others neck.
Four young guys came in and sat on high-stools at the bar
they were laughing and joking, without going too far.
Suddenly the whole mood changed as one got offended,
but the others apologised, and said no insult was intended.
The offended guy went to the toilet while his friends got in another round.
Then a stag night party came in, who were pouring the booze down.
Some of the party were slightly drunk and a little worse for wear,
but then they became loud and rowdy, and some began to swear.
The man who went to the toilet returned and tried to sit back down,
but one of the drunken party was on his stool and acted like a clown.
The clown was asked to move, in a gentlemanly polite kind of way,
but he wasn’t moving an inch, tomorrow was his wedding day.
Eventually, pushing and shoving managed to get him off the stool
and he ended up on the floor, as clowns do, as a rule.
The clown’s friends rallied around and began poking the other man,
and then his friends joined in, and more shouting, and pushing began.
The manager of the bar ordered them all to leave the place,
and told them their behaviour was an absolute disgrace.
Outside the arguing continued, and punches were thrown,
the clown and his friends weren’t going to leave this matter alone.
The kissing couple also left with their arms lovingly interlocked,
they became caught up in the affray with the man getting socked.
The clown’s friend pulled a knife, and the woman fell to the ground,
she lay in a pool of blood, as the shocked crowd circled around.
A police van arrived and took everyone including me,
all night I was detained along with the clown’s stag party.
As a witness I saw everything from the beginning to the end,
and I’m so glad that I wasn’t there on a date, with my lady friend.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tale Of Woe
Hey Mom;
I took your advice
And I didn’t even drink a drop
But my friends are too drunk to know
So I took responsibility, and I drove that group home,
But Mom, someone didn’t listen to your words of wisdom
And that driver hit the car head on.
Now I’m lying in the street
In an pool of my own blood
Mom I need you; Mom I want you; Mom can you help?
The pain is just so agonizing
Do you think doctors can save me?
Oh Mom, please don’t let me die
I’m too young to never see the light of day again,
I’ve always dreaded my day of death
And now Mom I lay here in my tomb
Just like a baby in the mother’s womb.
I can feel the tears of many, hit the floor.
But Mom that drunken man is still alive,
So how come he is and not I?
He didn’t even bother to shed a single tear;
And Mom I never really got the chance to express it,
I really do regret, but I really do love you.
And now that I’m laid to rest,
Tell everyone to live their best,
Because life’s too short, take that from me
I was hit by a car,
Because a drunk man left the bar,
And even though I didn’t drink a drop,
I’m the one dead, not him.
So now I say goodbye to the ones I love, and the ones I never knew
And my life was just the tale of Juliet, and her beloved Romeo
Because it ends in tragic woe.
poem by Nikita Poffley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Radio With Guts
it was on the 2nd floor on Coronado Street
I used to get drunk
and throw the radio through the window
while it was playing, and, of course,
it would break the glass in the window
and the radio would sit there on the roof
still playing
and I'd tell my woman,
"Ah, what a marvelous radio!"
the next morning I'd take the window
off the hinges
and carry it down the street
to the glass man
who would put in another pane.
I kept throwing that radio through the window
each time I got drunk
and it would sit there on the roof
still playing-
a magic radio
a radio with guts,
and each morning I'd take the window
back to the glass man.
I don't remember how it ended exactly
though I do remember
we finally moved out.
there was a woman downstairs who worked in
the garden in her bathing suit,
she really dug with that trowel
and she put her behind up in the air
and I used to sit in the window
and watch the sun shine all over that thing
while the music played.
poem by Charles Bukowski
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paint Box
Last night I had too much to drink
Sitting in a club with so many fools
Playing to rules
Trying to impress but feeling rather empty
I had another drink
Drink - a - drink - a - drink - a - drink
What a way to spend that evening
They all turn up with their friends
Playing the game
But in the scene I should have been
Far away
Away - away - away - away - away
Getting up
song performed by by Pink Floyd from Relics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Great Mid-West
Written by John Mellencamp
Everything is slower here, everybody's got a union card
They get up on Sunday and go to church of their choice
Come back home cook out in the backyard
Chorus:
And they call this the Great Midwest
Where the cornfields row and flow
They're all 5 years ahead of their time
Or 25 behind, I just don't know
All the young men talk about their 4 wheel drives
And how much money they're gonna make on Friday night
And, they like to brag about how they mistreat their girlfriends
Hey, let's get drunk, party it up, start a fight
Chorus II:
And they call this the Great Midwest
Sure make a hell of a car
And the old hearts, they race their way through the night
The upheaval of who they really are
Growin' up under normal conditions, television and radio
That's just about all of this whole world
That any of us get to see, get to know
Chorus III:
And they call this the Great Midwest
Where you sacrifice your body and soul
And no one really wants to get even
Most of us find it hard enough just lettin' go
Bridge:
Don't get me wrong I ain't complaining
I ain't braggin' nor do I mean to place blame
That's just the way things are around here
And there's a future carryin' my name on it
Sayin' hey man, you gonna stick around here you better get on it
If you're gonna stick around here you better make yourself some real good friends
Well I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth
So I can't talk about the big city life
But if you wanna talk about bein' bored and runnin'
away from yourself, hell I talk to you all night
Chorus IV:
And they call this the Great M
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The game
He walks in a grey light.
He does possess loads of might.
He is always kind in a fight.
His style is his delight.
He plays with a football thats dark & white.
He runs so fast that his feet take flight.
He is always away at night.
He must fight in the light.
People admire his fair heart in a fight.
He is always on his game.
He does not care about his name.
Just because he is different doesn't mean he can't live life right.
Do not forget that life is a fight between wrong and right.
Come Into My Dreams
Come into my dreams like beauty flash stirred by passion
The arms might break me before the dawn
But it won't hurt
Just never hide there with midnight flowers raising black buds and thorns
To bruise the skin against the outbreak
Do come into my dreams even with words too late to dream
Or to early to rise
Be the fountain and the foam of seed
Whose whiteness I can drink in darkness
Be drunk like the drunk wave rolling against the rocks
Be drunk like a drunk cloud surfing the sky
Be drunk like joy that swallows the night
To forget everything
I can give flowers I can give water
Just never come into my dreams
Without a smile of life quivering in your eyes
And if in pain a death toll will ring tiny bells of my love
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loving Cup
I'm the man on the mountain, come on up
I'm the plowman in the valley with a face full of mud
Yes, I'm fumbling and I know my car don't start
Yes, I'm stumbling and I know I play a bad guitar
Give me little drink from your loving cup
Just one drink and I'll fall down drunk
I'm the man who walks the hillside in the sweet summer sun
I'm the man that brings you roses when you ain't got none
Well, I can run and jump and fish, but I won't fight
You if you want to push and pull with me all night
Give me little drink from your loving cup
Just one drink and I'll fall down drunk
I feel so humble with you tonight,
just sitting in front of the fire
See your face dancing in the flame,
feel your mouth kissing me again
What a beautiful buzz,
what a beautiful buzz
What a beautiful buzz,
what a beautiful buzz
Oh, what a beautiful buzz,
what a beautiful buzz
Yes I am nitty gritty and my shirt's all torn
But I would love to spill the beans with you till dawn
Give me little drink from your loving cup
Just one drink and I'll fall down drunk
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Solitair, a teacher
Solitaire is a card game
Developed for playing
By self with no opponent
The fact is you are
Playing your own self
This is what
Solitaire teaches you
You shuffle cards
You distribute them
Upside down
Over eight or ten rows
Not knowing which card
Lays where and in what order
Keeping only the top layer open
You start arranging
Cards in descending order
As you move an open card
The card immediately under
Opens up
The card opening up may or may ot be
Matching your requirements
While opening up card
Depends on your luck
Card moving is totally
Left to you and
A lot depends on your skill
But you keep playing
Till the time either you win
By accumulating suits in order
Or when you get stuck
With no more moving of cards possible
And you lose the game
Life is like that only
And as in solitaire you play it alone
Though you seemingly have partners
And you must know that
You are all alone playing your game
You act on visible opportunities
And as you act upon this
New venues opening up
One by one
Either to your surprise or shock
Still you keep playing the game of life
Expecting each time when you act
There will be favourable changes
And with further scopes for gaining
The only difference is that
You quit the game in solitaire
But in life the game leaves you
At its discretion
Leaving you to wonder
Whether you are a winner or loser
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Slender: I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again, but in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick: if I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves.
line from The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act I, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1602)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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No Football Match Today
I don't know what to do today
as I'm not going to see a game
don't fancy walking around the shops
that just sends me totally insane.
My team are playing away
but I just can't afford to go
so I'll have to do the next best thing
and listen to it on my radio.
But I have run out of bloody batteries
and the shop says they've none in stock
but then just before the game kicked off
I thought I know I've got some in the clock.
So I sat there cheering on the lads
but it just didn't feel the same
I missed the drinking before the match
and being in the ground watching the game.
Anyway the team played really badly
and got hammered six goals to two
sitting there in my living room
feeling depressed and really blue.
So I went off to the local pub
and drowned my sorrows in ale
but I ended up being arrested for being drunk
and spent the night in the local jail.
So in future if I can't afford to go to the match
I think I will find something else to do
take the dog for a very long walk
or get a Saturday job in a shop or a zoo!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Night Time Passed So Quickly
last night
time passed so quickly
i did not even
notice that
the people in the house
where i live
had already taken dinner
washed their plates
kept them back
in the cabinet
and watched
soap opera
and then closed
the doors and windows
and slept
i only noticed the
change when
there was that
silence
that shouted
i have
been unfair
and too
insensitive
when poetry
seems to
be my whole
life when
nothing counts
anymore
except my
choice of
words
and living with
them
all alone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gartloney Rats
The boys from the village were festering sore
For a day on the rant with some music and more
Theyd drink porter in mauras way over in fore
And never get drunk but stay sober
There was harry the banjo and dunne of the swan
With whose bone from the wing hed beat the bodhran
And the song that hed sing was of ganders and all
Hed never get drunk but stay sober
There was woods on the guitar and auld squeeze box too
Who came from a time before aeroplanes flew
Hed sit in a corner and mule quite a few
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
There was mahon the singer who knew all the songs
And never was known to put a foot wrong
Hed sing through the night till the break o the morn
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
Then harry the banjo now there was a man
A bottomless pit if ever there was one
More porter hed lower that there was in the land
And hed never get drunk but stay sober
Well the gartloney rats would play away
Theyd play for the pints and not for the pay
And the pints theyd go down in the usual way
And theyd never get drunk but stay sober
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Going Back West
I was born and raised in the ghetto
Talk with me and youll know
I wasnt satisfied, with living on the side
I started looking around, for a possibility
Listen to my story, of what became of me
I met a businessman
Who said he had some friends back east
So why dont you come along
Well we can help you at least
Well make you into a big star
By playing your guitar
But the joke was on me
They left me flat to see
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Struggling for recognition, identity and respect
I got a lot of promises
They told me not to fret
So we will stand by you
If the going gets rough
But when I started thinking
They didnt even bluff
bout a year has come and gone
And left me standing here
Thinking how it could have been
For still I aint nowhere
They surely took me for a ride
Trampled on my pride
But I hold my head up high
Got no more tears to cry
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
Going back west (going back west)
I think Ill do alright
Going back west
Yes I know Ill make out alright
Going back west
Where my musics playing all night
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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