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The Cock and Bulldog Inn (new and improved)

There’s a wet whistle in the wind

On this frankly fearsome night

There’s a broken umbrella in my hand

And raindrops in my sight

When down the road I happen to spot

A partly polished light

And below it oh Jesus two pissed up geezers

Having one hell of a fight

One is caught right in the jaw

Wonderfully he hit’s the floor

The other one goes where he was before

Inside this crooked and narrow door

Above the light there stands the words

The cock and bulldog inn

The windows mostly boarded up

And the place just stunk of sin

I ought to get dry with a pint

I think that’s what I’ll do

It’s better than hitting the highway home

I may just catch the flu.

There's a busted door with knife marks on

I push it open wide

I put my cigarette out

And I take a step inside

I thought I'd found some shelter

From the wicked windy night

And that was when my eyes beheld

A truly gritty sight

Fred Perry and Ben Sherman

Were covering all the backs

Of the bald and shaved haired geezers

With scars from all the smacks

There’s one old fella at the bar

Who’s permanently pissed

And the smoking ban in this pub

It don't seem to exist

Derek is the landlord

With a tattoo saying ‘KILL’

He's smoking cheap cigars

And putting them out on the windowsill

Oblivious to all the chaos

Occurring around the clock

The disco biscuits under the tables

And the often missing stock

The jukebox blasting town called malice

And constant Chas and Dave

With stinking drinking louts chanting

How they rant and rave

And singing knees up mother brown

With bubbles in the air

It’s definite more than half of them

Are having an affair

It's definite they've all got a knife

Inside their underwear

And every single fucker's eyes

Is fixed with an icy stare

There's one big geezer with no teeth

Who's looking quite alarming

You wouldn't want to kick you ball

Into this fucker's garden

Suddenly I noticed

A silence in the air

I heard a church bell in the distance

I started to go spare

I looked around the crowded bar

And did a little wee

'Cause every bloke inside the pub

Was looking straight at me

I'd overstayed my welcome now

I made my tracks and parted

But by the time I'd reached the door

Another fight had started

And as the door is shut behind

I hear the glasses smash

I check my phone’s still there

And that they haven’t nicked my cash

Often I think about that night

And it’s truly sorely missed

That night I got enlightened

The other guys got pissed

So if you’re out tonight looking for a fight

I know where to begin

They’re mean and keen and sweetly obscene

At the cock and bulldog inn

◄ Make the World Your Ashtray

Down by the River ►

Comments

Anthony Emmerson

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Sat 4th Feb 2012 14:17

Hi Jack,

Good to know that someone is keeping the narrative poetry tradition up-to-date and alive! Much enjoyed.

Regards,
A.E.

graham robinson

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Fri 3rd Feb 2012 21:45

Hi Jack (I've always wanted to say that)...Great timing and rhythm and good metering in this Poem..I was almost taken back to those smoggy London/ Oliver Twist type Dickensian/Nell Gwynn and..Jack The Ripper times of brawls in dirty pubs and whores in doorways and hallways selling their 'fruits' etc.. etc..but the reference to Ben Sherman shirts? and mobile phones? took away the romance and mystery for me! brought me in to 2012 immediately...
But still a good poem Jack well written by you!

Graham Robinson/Poets Corner

M.C. Newberry

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Fri 3rd Feb 2012 15:29

If the U.K. had a Johnny Cash, this is the sort
of thing he'd be singing. Mean and memorable
set to a tune!

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