Pub Brawl

 Some b*****d

Some f*****g b*****d

With the dexterity,

Of Sugar Ray Robinson

Caught me,

Caught me with a hook

Caught me with a blow

Caught me with a pool cue

That sent ‘ma head a tumbling’

Like an old blues song

Desperate for an ending.

 

The prelude

The aggressive conversation

In the pub,

At the top of the bar

Where all the old men

Were egging us on,

In the hope that

We could enlighten

Their pointless seedless lives.

 

And what was it about?

A poxy game of pool

A confrontational argument,

About the rules of the game

The two shot theory and

The origin of baize…

 

I don’t recall the cue

Smacking me

On the side of the skull.

I just remember

Seeing the cue chalk fall

Down to the stained carpet

And land on its surface

At exactly the same

Moment…

As my bleeding head.

 

Coming around

After maximum impact

I could feel blood.

Red claret in the back

Of my throat, and

The realisation

That I needed a hasty retreat

Had to get out a there

Get out in one peace.

And I thought about tomorrow…

Oh Lord! Give me the

Strength to get to work

In the morning.

 

And as I looked up

From the floor

I could see ‘em all there

Holding their cheap cigars

And flat lager

Poxy old gits, laughing

Their f*****g heads off

With the additional stare

Oh those bloody stares,

Stares that told me

I fought like a t**d

Stares that told me

I could never return

To this crappy old boozer.

 

Got home safely

Didn’t wanna wake me

Parents up,

Didn’t wanna hear the old man

Hollow through his beer gut

Didn’t wanna have me mum

Nag about the washing up.

Ah home, home sweet home.

On my welcoming mattress

The bedroom appears

To spin,

There’s blood on my new jeans

From the kicking I’ve received.