A ‘drinking’ song for our times

A ‘drinking’ song for these unprecedented times, which I dedicate to all drinking men (and women) who are missing, not just the drink, but their locals and the company and craic therein.

To the air of: ‘The Pub with No Beer’. Raise your can, and sing!

It’s lonesome these nights with the local locked down

Not a pint to be had, not a soul on the town

Sitting home with the missus, watching soaps on TV

When she knows bloody well where I’d much rather be

Yes, I’m missing my comrades, my buddies in booze

Who I love to talk sport with, slag off and abuse

’Cause that’s what the local is really all about

Bickering, and bonding, over black pints of stout

Not one single pint did I have Paddy’s night

Which didn’t seem normal, which didn’t seem right

No drowning the shamrock in whiskeys or beers

A first to be sure in my drinking years

Now we’d understand fully if the pub had no beer

But the barrels are brimming, we’re just not let near

It’s torture, it’s penance, we’re all fit to cry

’Cause this is no way to go on the dry

A few cans at home now is just not the same

Where you have to be PC, proper and tame

No cursing or swearing or dubious jokes

That can only be shared with a few boozed up blokes

Yes, that’s what I miss most – I miss the auld craic

Over lagers and ales and creamy pints of black

Miss the sing-song, the music, the recrimatations

The meeting of minds and the argumentations

And I miss the quiet nights, on me own in the bar

Doing the crossword or reading the Star

Miss my barwoman who listens to me moan

And helps make my local, a true home from home.

There’s no sport on the telly, and there won’t be till June

The wife used to hate it but she’s changed her tune

All sports now she welcomes, she really doesn’t care

Even tiddly-winks will do once I’m out of her hair

Yes, the wife’s gone all cranky, she’s pis…she’s fed up with me

Sitting dazed, and dysfunctional, on the settee

‘Self isolate’, she says, ‘self isolate tonight

Don’t give a damn where, once you’re out of my sight.’

And self-isolate I would, but here is the rub

I only will do it – in my local pub!

Not a hope in Jaysus, says you, and you’re right

We’ve a better chance of forming a government tonight

So, how will it all end - where, when and how

The experts don’t know - they argue and row

But when Covid’s all over and we’re back to good cheer

I’ll be running to the pub – to murder a beer!

Another virus!

Covid 19 may well be doing the rounds (and rapidly) but here’s a wee verse that’s been doing the rounds on Facebook. Timely, appropriate, humorous, it really is infectious. Enjoy.

Smiling is infectious

You catch it like the flu

When someone smiled at me today

I started smiling tooI passed around the corner

And someone saw my grin

When he smiled I realised

I’d passed it on to him

I thought about that smile

Then I realised its worth

A single smile, just like mine

Could travel round the earth

So, if you feel a smile begin

Don’t leave it undetected

Let’s start an epidemic quick

And get the world infected.

(Spike Milligan)

A pre-Covid Joke

Two pals, Jim and Jack, are sitting at the bar. After several drinks Jim turns to Jack and says: ‘Jack, I don’t think I can stick it anymore, I’m going to have to divorce the missus.’

‘Jeez, that’s terrible’, says Jack, ‘but why?’ ‘Sure she’s out every night of the week, and I mean every night, and doesn’t come home till well after midnight.’ ‘And what’s she up to?’, asks Jack. ‘She’s looking for me.’