EVERY HOUR IS HAPPY HOUR

Ev'ry hour's happy hour if somebody else pays

My pubwatcher's Diary has listed
Sightings of the 'Sorry. skint' Tight-Fisted
Twonker, given away by unending
Fear at thought of cutting himself spending.
First out of the taxi: last in the pub
Helping himself to all the free beer and grub
Put before him While his love at first 'Let's
Go Dutch' girlfriend weeps and pays off his debts
Daydreaming of the day he proposes
With a bunch of graveyard-stolen roses
"Buy yerself a big engagement ring, Luff
Your Dad pays out for the weddin', &; stuff
Gets given to us as presents for nowt
So I'll be quids in meantime, I'm off out
To't pub, to stare at an empty glass
'Till some burke fills it for me. See yer. Lass'.
Predecimal Purse safely buried,
He's out on the town now, deeply worried
By rising beer prices, feeling sad thoughts
For those who buy his booze and brandy shorts
Despite deep economic recession.
Scrooge-face still needs intoxication
To ensure sleep by the time it's his round,
He orders Horlicks, but he's up and sound
As a pound when your buyin' 'em for 'im.
Smiling when you do. Till then he looks grim.
One handed, he peels an orange, in his
Pocket, while faking birthdays for Guinness
Pissed as a fart and not spent a button,
He cadges a lift (bus fare forgotten).
Don't shed no tears and don't feel no sorrow -
Bankrupt yourself - Buy his beer tomorrow.

Arthur Chappell