Still embalmed is the smell, the taste, the colour

In what was once the room of smoke

Where carefully contoured rings blew across

Louche sofa’s and upright leather bar stools

Served by barmen or brassy barmaids

In rooms filled with jaded freshly tousled men

And up and coming starlets, strumpets and harlots

Those once well thought of

Some notorious

Others vain glorious

Often the worse for wear

The like of which were sketched on the back of cigarette cards

To be swapped and collected

Arranged in matching teams and sets

Now like their images

Just cameos of a life well lived

In contrast to the spit and sawdust

Polished wooden tables

With roll out the barrel

Pints of mild and bitter

Port and lemon

Flat caps and tucked in scarves

Where laughter is loud and proud

Arriving and descending in great swathes

Never polite

Never condescending

Just honest

Sometimes rude or naugthy

Never a guffaw or chortle

 

Whilst in the salons and up town bars

Some sat holding court

Perched on the edge of leather chairs or stools

Where flappers, all feathers and beads

Sit with snappy dressing top hat and tails

Smoking sweet smelling cheroots or cigarettes through

Tooth chewed tortishell holders

Talking of the very latest sensation

Here today, gone tomorrow

Darling have you seen?

Have you heard the most divine? 

Ice slinks, chinks and slurps in tumblers

Of Johnny walkers, Gordon’s and Gilbey’s

Whilst stifled controlled laughter

Never pierces or pushes the columns of advancing fog

 

That wall of mist formed in every quarter

Every saloon, hotel, public bar and boudoir

Holding its’ own against any inward draft.

It’s warm welcome fug an antidote

To anything that might be out there

The other side of highly polished wood and brass

Where finely etched glass is labelled with public, snug, saloon

Or smoke room

The last bastion against that out there

The great unknown

The great outdoors

The open air