THE PUB BY THE WEIR

They were after telling stories,

For, to put a frame on it,

There was nothing else to be doing of a brisk evening.

          Don’t you know.

Oh, ‘tis true there was a fine view from above Clare’s field

Where the path led by a fairy fort—

The tourists were all quite taken with that,

          Don’t you know,

Always wanting to hike up to the crest of the hill

Past the fairy fort—

Which is nothing but a circle of trees.

Yes, they were after telling stories in the evening

When the wind was blowing the rain from the North

Or was it the West?

It was a wayward wind for certain, that night,

          Don’t you know.

And what was there to be doing after all,

But listen to the wind and watch the fire,

Keeping warm,

          Don’t you know.

And even were it a dry night,

Though those are rare enough—

The “lovely peace and quiet”

Admired so by the tourists

Can be wearing on a man,

          Don’t you know.

#PoetryandIreland #IrishPubsandPoetry

So, what’s to do but off to the pub for a drink

And a bit of storytelling.

A bit of gossiping, as well,

          Don’t you know.

Reminding the other fellow of his foolishness

When he was a lad and his faults now he’s a man,

And if tempers should rise,

A pint or a small one will soften any who’re taken to anger.

Well, almost any,

          Don’t you know.

Yes, they were after telling stories

Each man in his turn playing out the words

To the praise of the rest

Like dancers urged from the crowd

And encouraged into exhibiting their skill in stepping.

Just so,

          Don’t you know.

And a good story will call for another,

Drink being a reward for the telling and the listening—

Spirits to warm you when living can’t—

          Don’t you know.

Yes, they were old friends and neighbors gathered about

And they were after telling stories one brisk evening.

Yes, they were after telling stories,

Since for certain there was nothing else to be doing,

          Don’t you know.