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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.
Written by Kexby (john rickell)
Published
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