Whose Roon Is It Anyway&;#063;

W is for

Whose Roon Is It Anyway?
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They came out of the fog like wraiths
Two staggering, swaggerring jaikies
Floating with bellies full of bevvy and onion pies
Amigos in alcohol semper fidelis, semper half-cut
Peter and Rab men in their prime
Lurching from one pub to another ad infinitum
They entered the smokey noisy bar
And straight up to the cheesed off seen it all barman
"Two pints of your finest foaming ale, my good man"
"Less o, the funnies or else" came the tired retort
They watched with blinking eyes and watering lips as
The nectar was poured and deposited on the bar
"Four quid pal"
"Ah,ll get it, Peter it,s ma roon"
"Naw naw naw it,s ma turn"
"No way hombre, you got the last wan in"
"Ah don,t think so, hoo munny huv we hud?"
Peter thinks a difficult concept for him
Total brain blur with Tennents and Bells
"Eight pints and four haufs" announces Peter
"There ye go, an even number so it,s ma roon"
"!How de ye make that oot Rab?" queries Peter
"Listen never mind ahm thirsty an it,s ma roon"
"Naw it,s ma fuckin, shout"
The barman stirs
"Less of that fuckin, language or yizz ar oot"
They stand awkwardly, looking at each other
Squaring up like cowboys in a saloon
And jangling change in their pockets
"Is ma money no guid enough for ye?" bleats Rab
"Fuck off" states Peter
"Right that,s it yizz are barred"
"Aw come on big man" pleads Peter
"Ah warned yizz" and he takes back the pints
They stare at each other tears in eyes
Shoulders are shrugged in quiet resignation
With a burp a belch and a hawking they
Swagger and stagger out
Into the cold night haar
Peter n Rab two intoxicated incompetents
And the recriminations start
"Ah telt ye it wiz ma roon" slurs Peter
"Awright you get the next wan"
And they disappear into the night
it really was Rab,s roon;