Pub Fever
   - with apologies to John Masefield


I must go down to the pub again
On a meat and jackpot night,
For my barbecue’s on this weekend
And I’ve not a steak in sight.

I must go down to the pub again
For a chance to win a tray
At least of chops and sausages
So they’re ready for the fray.

I must go down to the pub again,
Rissoles might be nice
With eggs fried ’longside bacon
And some spicy, jasmine rice.

I must go down to the pub again,
The jackpot prize to win.
I could buy some grog for that barbecue
To please the kith and kin.

So here I am at the pub again,
The tension’s getting greater,
I’ve missed out on all the meat trays
But the jackpot’s coming later.

I must not go down to the pub again,
Winning tickets I can’t buy,
So sandwiches will have to do
When they come on Saturday.


Chris Winston
10 July 2018
 

 

The D-Team

Said David, Duncan, Don and Doug
“It’s cold outside, we need a snug.”
And snug they found beside the bar,
“It’s good,” said Don, “we don’t go far
’Cause where I sit I just lean back
With hand of cash and order black.
(or Old as it is also known
’Mongst connoisseurs of amber brown).” 

“I can’t talk now, must concentrate,
The TV weather’s running late.
The weather girl needs my attention,”
Said Don, while others chose to mention
That for the last race, not on song,
Her prediction of good winds was wrong.
“Tsk, tsk,” said Don in curt rejoinder,
“Just look at how she holds that pointer.” 

The others left him to his dreams
And spoke of handicaps and beams.
“Nice beam,” said Don, who started waking,
“But now my leave I must be taking.
Enjoy your night, enjoy your beer,
See you fellas, taxi’s here.”

Chris Winston
July 2017

 

Blues Point Yacht Club

There’s a small Australian yacht club in the North of Sydney town
And it races on the Harbour blue, a place of high renown.
There aren’t too many yachts to beat, it’s relatively small,
But for demonstrated friendliness the Club stands ten feet tall.

The competition on the water, well, it can be tough,
Especially when rounding marks if there’s barely room enough.
The handicappers make it fair – at least that’s what they say –
Yet they engender arguments re fairness on the day.

But afterwards, back in the Club, with post-mortems taking place,
The skippers and their crews confer ’bout aspects of the race:
We could’ve started faster, we should’ve checked the tide,
The spinnaker was wine-glassed, our approach was far too wide.

The beer, no doubt, adds clarity, on what to do next time
But by then ’twill be forgotten and we’ll repeat the crime.
For that’s part of the attraction, a reason to come back,
To see if we can just improve, at least on when to tack.

So where’s this Club, I hear you ask, I’d like to join the fun,
I sail a bit, I drink a bit, so the CV’s ’ready done.

Blues Point Hotel is where we meet, the “Club” is ’round the bar,
’Tis there the sailors reminisce and plan their next hurrah.
The calendar’s a bit obscure – ’bout every Sunday three,
We welcome you to join us, my sailing mates and me.

Chris Winston
November 2015

 

The Carpet Cleaners

“It’s time to be dynamic,”
Says Trev to Finn the Finn
“Time to clean the carpets
And bring the dollars in.”

“Time we got upon the road
with all our cleaning gear.
Time to be dynamic,
but first, we’ll have a beer”

“You’re right, you know,” says Finn the Finn,
”We’ll get straight into our car,
We’ll scrub and clean the carpets
-- When we have left the bar.”

“It’s time to be dynamic,”
says Trevor with a grin,
as he hand another middie
To his partner Finn the Finn.

“You’re right, you know,” says Finn the Finn,
”We must be on our way”,
As he has another Foster’s
-- His fifteenth for the day.

“It’s time to be dynamic,”
Says Trev to all about,
”We’ll be upon our way lads,
After Finn has had his shout.”

“You’re right, you know,” says Finn the Finn,
”Our business is so great,
We don’t care a bugger,
If our clients have to wait.”

“Time to have a spell now,”
Says Trev when day is done,
”Carpet cleaning’s just a chore,
But drinking is so much fun.”

“You’re right, you know,” says Finn the Finn,
”Dynamic men must rest,
Without some relaxation,
We cannot give our best.”

Wrightie, November 13, 1984