I walked into an ancient, English pub
As a rosy faced maid knelt down to scrub
Where sailors sat around mahogany tables
Drinking brownish ale, and telling Saxon fables;
The scent of mignonette mixed with thyme
Descended from holly and mistletoe.
As I reclined in a booth weaving my rhyme,
I dreamt of a square where a stream did flow.
And in the beer scented thick of the drunken din,
I saw a princess with flowers in her hand
Kneel beside a shrine, as sunlight graced the land.
And lo and behold, that same sun shone in
And touched all the sailors’ heads and hearts
With Mary’s love and Cupid’s darts.
John Lars Zwerenz
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I find it hard to give an opinion or criticism on your work. ~ Geezer.
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Dear Mr Zwerenz
I can only assume you have never actually been in an English pub.
- rosy faced maid knelt down to scrub?
- sailors sat around mahogany tables?
- brownish ale?
- Saxon fables;?
- mignonette mixed with thyme?
- in a booth?
English Pubs
Pubs like dis? Maybe not so much in London, but there are plenty in the English countryside that breathe dis way, my friend. I know very well. I lived there. And in dis mystical poem, the vision becomes reality. Be well. John (And not all mignonette is seen with the eyes.)