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The Smithfield
Called in the pub for lunch
Smithfield on the sign
A handsome place
Beside the road that leads to town.
The lounge set out with tables
Was neat and tidy . . . .
But we did n't look too close
'Today's Specials' wiped clean
No menus to be seen.No one at the bar.
A few were drinking in the pool-room
Not enough to pay the bills.
It was then we saw a pile of menus,
Bound with string
And still we didn't twig.
Malcolm's wife had gone away
To see her sister somewhere in Wales
Jack,I'd left behind so we both were free.
We settled at the bar to order drinks
A two course lunch,the best in town
And still we didn't twig.
I pressed the button
The urgent buzz quite rude
Strangers always jump
The barman rarely listens!
Press it twice, worth the wait
The Guinness always good,
Frothy down the sides.
"We'd like to order lunch,"
It was one and we were hungry
Seemed a reasonable thing to do.
And still we didn't twig.
It was then we saw reality...
‘Specials board’ wiped clean
The menus tied with string
None but us to order.
"Sorry there's no food today
Closing Tuesday night”
Boarded up,this time for good
There has been trouble in the past
Landlords came and went
The cattle market closed,
never been the same.
We always wondered how they managed
Now we knew they didn't.
Two other pubs are closing
In the same sad week
Now where shall we go to fight and argue?
We did our best to keep them open
Two pounds sixty pence a pint!
At the next election,what shall we do?
Maybe then we shall twig.
Perturbation will do the rest,
We'll scatter round the county
Find new friends, fresh ales.
I have in mind a little place.
Down a country lane
Drinking there two times a week
Another in the afternoon
Not quite so far away
A pint at each no more.
But the Smithfield's around the corner
The other two six miles.
Its my own fault
I should not have strayed,but
Twigged and saved on petrol.
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