The Drinking Pub House

I am the brick, that has been named..
Along the alley, to the last corner stands..
There, right there, I claim my patch..
Set myself, stands, stages set, a coozy hut..


Wine, beer, cider, whisky, nuts and crisps in huts..
Smoky zones, now set out side, the corner, named..
My banquet laid, for wandering souls' stands..
To find a refuge, rescued here on my patch..


Escaped men, from domestic chores' patch..
Escaped men, from troubled minds' hut..
Escaped men, of destitute hunger's named..
Escaped men, to find their boys voice stands..


All scream out, loud at transmitting box stands..
22 men, seen on playground pitch, patch..
Right here, screened live, in my hut 
They watched and roared, characters rightly named..


Juke box plays, gives dancing feet, a partner calling, named..
An eruption of ballads, sung here on my stands..
Fuelled by a happy lico, drunk here on my patch..
On my last bell, ring, rang, ding dong, ringoo, in my hut..


Staggered men, fall out, in line, out of my hut..
Till tomorrow, when I open up again, my stage named..
I am the brick, that has made it's patch..
Here I stand, here, where men, drink from my stands..

I am the brick, that has been named..

Along the alley, to the last corner stands..

There, right there, I claim my patch..

And set myself, a coozy hut..