Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Harold's Storm In A Beer Glass.

 Twas a stormy winter night, the back end of the year,
Harold came across a wayside Inn, and went in for a beer.
The Landlady was a comely wench with overflowing boobs,
The Landlord kept his cellar good and always cleaned his tubes.

Harold had one drink and then another one; or two,
the seat was comfortable, the company good, so he drank another few.
The fire blazed in the grate, the welcome was also warm.
Whilst outside the cold wind blew, and kicked up a mighty storm.

Although Harold was a married man, he liked a pint of beer,
he imagined he was a youth again, without family; or a care.
He gave the buxom Landlady more attention than he should,
the beer was talking for him, he was in a confident mood.

The Landlord was a large man, but Harold didn't care,
The ale was in, the wits were out, Harold had no fear.
Confident enough was he, to do whatever he wished.
The Landlord said, 'get out of her!' Harold said, 'I'm not pished!'

The Landlord said, 'I think you are.' and grabbed him by the collar,
Harold struggled, all in vain, and then began to holler.
The Landlord threw him out, in that dark and stormy winters night,
Harold, shouted, 'Come outshide an short thish out; you big fat shump of shite!'

He staggered home to the wife who wasn't very impressed.
Harold staggered around the room, trying to get undressed.
'Don't think your going to bed with me, in that terrible state.
What do you think your doing coming home this late?'

Vera was a feisty wife, she went and got a broom,
and chased Harold up the stairs and back down from their bedroom.
He wished he had not visited that pub and quaffed down all that beer,
Twas a stormy winter night the back end of that year.

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