Of Friends and Porter

Went down the hatch, the dusky brew,
as smooth as milk an' mighty too.
An emptied glass, one more, begad,
I nary 'fore such pleasures had.

'Twas great the bar, the counter, stood
with friends an' stout, there's nowt as good.
’Twas Easy-goin’ way back then
mid scholars, fools an' workin’ men.

The brew be stirrin' thoughts of yore,
of heartbreak, joy  an' tales galore.
An’ we would laugh, so, too, a tear
an' raise a glass in merry cheer.

Recallin' them, who passed away;
who wedded who, who led astray.
Of babbies born, how much they weighed,
of births an' deaths, how life is played.
.
Complainin' 'bout our ails an' aches,
the little things, the time it takes.
When we were lads an' fiddle fit
to greyin' hair an' losin' it.

Philosophised twixt grind an' grace
when argued 'bout the human race.
Though stout an' sense do not mix well;
which uttered forth? 'Twas hard to tell.

To quotin’ we, them bards an' poets,
the songs, we'd sing of ancient notes.
'Bout rebels, heroes, saints an' prayer,
when bombs an' hymns wrung out the air.

Of women wooed, how we would boast,
an' sure enough, another toast.
An' spake, we did, of love an' home,
forgot them not who lived alone.

An' ofttimes, too, in silence be,
betook to some auld memory.
'Twas nice the quiet, we understood,
'twas somethin’ that was in our blood.

An' all the while we supped away
whilst bade adieu another day.
’Twas who we were, ’twas fair an’ square;
with friends a taken, takin' care.