Way back in time, when I was a young man,
There was a place that I went to every day.
A place where I met with friends.
The question “Where are you going?”
The answer was always “Up The George”.
The George, a proper pub.
Public bar for us darters and carders,
Saloon bar for a more gentile drink;
And an off licence so that more booze
Could be bought almost unseen.
The public bar, almost men only,
With forthright conversations
Highlighted with intemperate language;
But when ladies came into the bar
The bad language ceased.
Every evening I would be there
Playing darts or cards,
Drinking beer, chatting with friends;
A place of friendship and humour.
And a place that I think of with fondness.
Mick, The Landlord, with Pauline, his wife,
Made sure there was never any trouble.
It was often boisterous and rowdy,
But never anything happened
That was without fun and laughter.
There were three of us
Who shared our lives,
We always went everywhere together;
To pubs and clubs and rivers and lakes.
Jack, Joe and me, like three musketeers.
The barman’s name was John;
The finest purveyor of beer I have ever seen.
Sunday lunchtimes just look through the window
And our pint would be on the counter
By the time we had put our name on the dartboard.
The darts came first,
Put your name down quickly on Sunday
If you lost a match you would never get on again
So many darters, such good players,
So many laughs, so much fun.
So many characters, so many friends;
There was John and Vic always together,
Great friends who always darted and carded together.
Aged Eric a man of the sea for many years
Always walked side to side as though still on board ship.
Sometimes on a Saturday night
The singing beer would be served;
And there was Don with his wondrous good voice
And his Italian good looks,
Outshining any Venetian Gondolier.
There on a Friday night
There would be Bryn the Clown and Jack the Beard,
Playing euchre against me and my Dad,
For pennies and tuppences;
Not for the money, but for the love of the game.
Then there was Ron, Big Ron
A lovely man who lived a hundred yards from the pub,
But always drove to it.
He was taken from us early in his life,
And I was in one of the fifteen cars following his coffin.
The George, part of my youth;
A very special part;
A place looked back on with fondness,
Happiness and love.
A time of laughter, innocence and joy.