Ye Olde Asses Inn

There is an inn where they would meet
For crumpets and a spot of tea.
A reading of the scroll took place...
To honor those of a certain grace.
The blacksmith thereupon would leave,
To polish saddles and brass horse bits!
And when the meeting came to an end...
The waitress was paid a hefty tip!

Ye Olde Asses Inn.
All the clients are old men.
Nothing has changed...
Since the invention of quilled feathered pens!
Everyone agrees an 'update' is in dire need!
Especially since the prostitutes...
Have no spaces to park their mercedes in!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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