ramblings and things

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Earl de Grey

Not a member of the aristocracy
Just a pub of local renown,
Nestled by the town docks,
The red light area of the town;
And the ladies of the Earl de Grey
Who gave the pub some fame
Used it for their business
In that oldest of game.

And every new customer
Was quickly appraised
And some not so very subtle
Approaches made.
And sometimes a couple
Would slip out of the door,
And sometimes very shortly
Slip in again once more.

The barman was a big man
Supervising the night,
Ready to leap the counter
At first sign of any fight.
A volatile mixture really,
A constantly changing flow
As the curious and the regulars
Seemed to come and go.

And the parrot behind the bar,
On his perch by the wall,
Apart from the odd squawk,
Sagely contemplated all.
This was the swinging sixties
When society was changing.
How could we know then
Just how far ranging.

It's all modernised now,
A marina replacing one dock,
With luxury boats and cruiser
Safely berthed behind a new lock;
The Old Earl de Grey still stands
Scaffolded, tarpaulined, cocooned,
Like me, another relic out of time,
Sad, lost, stranded, and marooned.

Not a member of the aristocracy
A pub once of world renown
Nestled by the new Marina
In a sanitised part of the town.

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Earl de Grey