Their voices sing long salty tones,
Drunken bard.
Stirring warmth in his bones,
That goes down hard.
Lads around the table smile,
A pint in each hand.
These are their mates for a while,
Truly they are merry band.
Keeper cloths the glossy top,
Mixes fun in every glass.
There is no need for one to stop,
Spirits enough for all to pass.
Boisterous clatter fills the room,
Crooked teeth agrin.
Soon too old and steeped with gloom,
But they'll remember when.