Lockdown in the Local
The pubs are shut
The grass aint cut
The pints not flowing
The lawn needs mowing
The pies are cold
The snacks are old
The crisps are stale
The lack of ale
The jukey's quiet
The waitress fired
The buzz is gone
The fire ain't on
The food disposed
The doors are closed
Goodbye my Local
Thursday 24th September 2020 9:51 pm
Recent Comments
John Marks on The nutritional value of a bullet
3 hours ago
Tom Doolan on HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND
4 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on HELLO DARKNESS MY OLD FRIEND
4 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on The nutritional value of a bullet
8 hours ago
Pinnochio on Am I Enough?
10 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on The nutritional value of a bullet
15 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Social Media Man
16 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on upon a shot that lit the roof alight; June 29, 1613
23 hours ago
Robert Mann on November Heart (Updated)
1 day ago
Rolph David on Máxima's Royal Mock
1 day ago