ramblings and things

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Me and Jimmy Carter thirsty
In this quaint old German town,
Came across this dark lane
And walked on down:
At the end an ale house
With a welcoming sign
And a park full of hogs
All neatly parked in line.

A bikers pub, but what the hell
Bikers get thirsty as well.
Hordes of huge leather clad forms
Crowded the room, leathers the norm.

Johnny Cash was playing, conversation was low,
To allow listening to the music, no need for us to go.
This was a JC fan club, at a regular meeting.
We  drank with the bikers, joined in the singing.

Raised our glasses, drank their toasts,
Had some fun with our genial hosts.
Had to ring the night bell, stand there and shout
They'd all gone off to bed and locked us both out.

Not for the first time
On our eventful trip
Since we'd met in the bar
Of that North Sea Ferry ship:
The beginning of a friendship
Which has gone on and on
Built on common love of Pils
And Country Music song.

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