We’re going down the pub.

Ahhh the good old days…..

“We’re going down the pub”!

The speed spread

Through my head

As I ran laughing

Seeing it all.

Peoples faces,

everyone shining

Like glass lightening.

Some smiled back.

My feet danced

In puddles of light

As I danced

The dance all right.

I crossed the puddles

Like raging oceans

Feet tip tapping

A rhythm a beat.

Words in my head

All laughter and banter

Talking with myself

The conversation was great.

I be bopped to the pub

The good old polar bear.

Where we laughed and

talked of literature.

I’d met Wreckless Eric there.

We did some speed

In the toilet where

Everyone cued up to do the same.

Friends in the corner

Over I went

They could see 

Right away.

I was a little bent.

But just content

as I gabbled my story

of life on the road.

I imagined

I was Kerouak.

I was Ginsberg

And Camus!

All come back.

I slipped to the toilet

Like so many of us before

And poured out another

Bump of powder on my hand

Straight up my nose

In my head was mighty prose

I twitched and danced

And even romanced.

I shared my good fortune

With others two or three

Then bopped again

Alone in my haste

We shone like alabaster

Nothing but laughs

As we fed the jukebox

With ten pence just to rock

It was the pistols

And the clash

And a bit of Jimmy Pursey

All melding together

We whirled and punked

Also we drunk

As we sang along

“We’re going down the pub”.

We went across the road

To the socialist bookshop

And smoked some hash

Nice and soft and coloured black.

Then back to the Polar Bear

To rave somemore

More joined us in our dance

All was romance, “I love you”!

It lasted all night but 

come the next day

It was time to stay in bed,

And greatly straighten the head

Ready for the new day.

So “Hurry up Harry”.