Quiet tonight Alf.
Aye, you're first in Poet. Usual?
Aye. Pint please! What you know?
Not as much as thee lad!
I know nowt Alf. The wisdom of the twilight alehouse has dwindled significantly of late.
I'm with thee there boy!
What's to be done in your view Alfred?
I'll ask the townsfolk when they come in Poet. I'll let you know.
Comment by irene roberts on 12th January 2020 at 09:48
Love that, Poet! Having worked in pubs I recognise the "What d'you know?"..."Not as much as thee, lad".
Comment by Veronica on 12th January 2020 at 13:40
Sadly all those old regulars who used to sit propped up at the bar are long gone! Every pub had a few of those, part of the fixtures and fittings. I would like to think they are doing the same in their favourite pub 'in the great beyond' so to speak!
Comment by Poet on 17th January 2020 at 10:41
How do Ezra! What'll thee supp?
Two gills o mild and half a beer!
A couple a pals coming in tonight?
Ay, a miner and a fusilier.
Not Jemmy from the Maypole pit?
Not sin him since it all went up!
And Walt, with whiskers laced with ale,
That kept out the cowd at Passchendaele?
That's reet Sam my inquisitive host,
Won't you join us in a ghostly toast?
Comment by Poet on 22nd January 2020 at 12:02
Now then Alf. How's trade been?
Dead Poet ! Owd uns' mostly...
A mad rascal with a scraggy beard,
Reckoned he played football one Christmas eve agin the Jerries.
And one ol codger with a lamp and a face full of grime.
Asked for a tin bath would you believe!
Drifters I suppose. Owd Ezra bought em a gill apiece.
Will they be back Alf do you think?
Then the coals on the fading fire fell
And the door of the snug
With a tinkling bell
Opened slow and there they stood..
Will they return Alf and sit on yon stool?
Why Alf you're all ashen
Like thas sin a ghoul.
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