Truman light ale methodically pumped into a glass, whisky at 1/6th of a Gill always politely passed,

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past

Painted deep blue colour on the window pane, sign above the door that says please come again

Mum counting change backwards with a smile on her face, Bill has one more whisky chaser almost a disgrace

The Landlady would ask for help in the small dark cellar, Mum would nod approval, if i had the chance to tell her

Bottles down the chute stacked into crates, very glad to work at eight, remarking to my mates.

Childhood recollections of good times, at a last, such a shame those days have gone, with the working class. 

life is forever cruel these days, obtuse, somehow crass

Yet this quaint little pub on the corner had a secret in its past.