A BITTER TASTE

By Peter Woodgate 

I look at the barmaid through an empty glass

As the last drop of liquid slides down my throat

I fumble through pockets each side of my jeans

Finding them empty I turn to my coat.

I manage a smile as I find some loose change

And thumping the glass down I ask for another,

She gives me a smile and replies with the words

“You’ve had enough darling, go home to your mother”

Everyone knows that I’ve had a big row

My wife’s kicked me out and I’ve gone home to mum

All I have left is to visit the pub

And drown all my sorrows, one after one.

But hang on a moment, that girl in the corner,

She’s wearing a blouse with pink and white lace

I stumble toward her, my luck may be in,

It’s then that I trip and fall flat on my face.

So to all those poor fellows who know what it’s like

To feel so dejected, their lives full of woe

Don’t bother with women, they just give you grief,

Stick to the booze, but drink nice and slow.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate