The Pub

I wandered lonely as a tramp

That floats on, high on heroin

When through the darkened haze and damp

I saw a most delightful inn

Beside the pound shop and dead trees

Rattling and creaking in the breeze

Continuous as the fags that light

And tinkle when the blokes inhale

They Stretch and never escape sight

Along the car park's shingled trail

Eleven, saw I at a glance

To borrow one, I saw a chance

For oft when on the road I lie,

In drunken or in pensive mood,

They flash upon my glassy eye

When they approach to offer food

And sorrows are all forthwith dashed

When'er I think of getting smashed