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Patron Saints

by David Maurice

A good pint

clears my head

of all that crap

that confuses the real


I like everything about a pint

From selecting the kind

to the expert way

the tender draws it

The proper half inch of tasty foam

is a soothing balm 'gainst

wintery winds,

whether they be from

nature, or

the lips of babes.

I'm known here

It has it's advantages

I've only to sit down

And I've got a pint glass

in front of me

A cheery smile

in front of me

And the age old mantra

'What's your pleasure'?

ringin' in my ears.

A pint tells a story to me

I look down the bar

to the nearest patron


for the next chapter

We raise our glasses in mutual


of the drink, or the company

doesn't matter, really

A toast's a toast

there's nothing to do but drink to it.

And we do

That patron


leaves the bar

Smiles, tips his halo to

the serving lass

And stumbles off into the snow

He lost that halo I hear

Tumbled into the gutter

halo forgotten behind

as he wove his way back

to heaven.

I wonder what happened to it?

Hula-hoop for rats?

Bent straight and used to break

into a car?

Doesn't matter really

He can always borrow

mine if he needs it

I sure don't need one

All I need is one more pint

to clear the crap

One more pint

to raise to the next

saint or sinner

The mirror behind the bar

grows dust


Posted on 08/08/2015
Copyright © 2021 David Maurice

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