6 minutes ago
"Last Orders" a poem by Johnny Vegas
Ask not for whom that bell doth toll
As wordy barmaid's eyes do roll
And landlord with an earnest shout
Calls time on drinks and ushers out
The dutiful sup up and leave
But he's a last card up his sleeve
With feet like land-locked deep-sea diver
Shuffles barwards with a fiver
He begs the lass for just one more
"And one yourself, just make it right"
He promises to drink it quick
Yet deep down knows he's feeling sick
Not from stout or bags of scratchings
More from questions booze keeps asking
"What happened to the happy me?"
"I think... no, hang on, need to pee"
In the bog, the poet sways
Poised to ponder fonder days
Before the time of cheap warm cider
Eyes of wonder opening wider
Now they narrow, tired of fun
As fart turns wet and burns the bum
Yet rueing smile pops in his head
Til urine runs down inside leg
And thus the landlord shows him out
The child inside is crying out
"I was not meant for such sweet sorrow"
But opts instead for "See you tomorrow"
Thou stout-soaked, sick-stained, feckless soul
Is what for, not whom, that bell did toll