Earl de Grey

It was said, in a period not too long ago, you could go to any deep port anywhere in the world and find somebody who knew this place.

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.   

There used to be two birds

One apparenty being shot

During a turf war 

That got a little hot

When the survivor

Went off its maker meet

They say it was buried 

Under the new Castle Street

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 relics out of time, 

Sad, lost, stranded, and marooned

Not a member of the aristocracy

Just a pub once of world renown

Standing by the new Marina in

A cleaned up part of the town.