Ballad to the Pubs’ Re-opening
Is that the open door of a pub?
Is a night-reveller in there?
Can I go in and get some grub,
and drink and eat without a care?
I think I’ll have a syllabub,
and a glass of insobriety,
and in the breath of a fresh hubbub
I’ll drink to the world’s variety!
The land has been a desert scrub
in the clutch of a wintry air,
a withered shrub, a dried tree-stub . . .
which now is transformed everywhere.
This vision of Beelzebub –
this dry rot in society –
is taken out by a nuclear sub.
I’ll drink to the world’s variety!
All’s fresh and new – and here’s the nub:
this shivering state we used to share –
the land of the two-metres snub –
was in our souls. We did not dare
to clink a glass – ay, there’s the rub
to a too-prim propriety.
But the wheel’s turning – we’re at the hub –
I’ll drink to the world’s variety!
Reader, I may be going to blub
with joy and not anxiety.
Come join me in this old night-club!
We’ll drink to the world’s variety!
I’ll join you in drinking to the world’s variety. And I love the way ‘I’ll’ becomes ‘we’ll’ at the end…
Tony
Cheers Tony. Hope to see you there! – Joe