On the Bus to Old Uncle Woody's

That Guinness-loving Poetikat is driving TFE's Poetry Bus this week!  Along with being one of our favorite poets, she is a wicked good driver, and she wants tales of pubs, where a fabulous time is had by all.  Now you know I seldom frequent such places, but I thought, since she asked, I would give it a whirl. Here's my ticket, Kato!

Uncle Woody’s

I remember an old pub

That served beer, and some grub,

Where we gathered at the end of exams,

Where Babette and young Bill

And ol' Clint, Ted, and Chill

Transformed from staid scholars to hams.

We talked much of Marx--
There sometimes were sparks--
While the smoke swirled thick from Barb's Camels.

Kev and Steve hung about,
One with Coke, one with stout,
As we fretted over grad conference panels.

We drank, by accounts,

Ale in copious amounts,

Sometimes walking out with pub glasses.

Too oft some drank more

Than their wits could endure,

Until loudly they showed off their asses!

I confess, more than once,

Having imbibed too much,

I left there in great disarray,

But The Bug was forgiving,
I'm still among the living,

Though I had hell to pay the next day!

And did I mention the Loo,

Where the moldy stuff grew,

And the tiles sometimes got mighty squishy!?!

From that place oft arose

An offense to the nose,

Akin to a dead, rotting fishy!

Though in that Necessary

One did pee in a hurry,

Lest the smell make one lose all one's goodies,

Still it was such good sport,

To carouse and cavort

In the pub known as old Uncle Woody’s!


Photograph temporarily purloined from the Interwebz (I'll put it back, I promise).