By chucking out time, I’ve downed ten pints,
Then it’s down to our local curry house.
It wouldn’t be a Friday night, if we didn’t go for an Indian.
Blurry-eyed, staggered through the neon-lit night,
A few times, planted myself against a window,
By chucking out time, I’ve downed ten pints.
“Hello Robbo! ” Shouted Tomo, with the gang.
“Coming for a curry? ”
It wouldn’t be a Friday night, if we didn’t go for an Indian.
Belting out “Vindaloo! Vindaloo! Vindaloo!
Me and me mum me dad and gran, and a bucket of Vindaloo! ”
By chucking out time, I’ve downed ten pints,
Crashed through the door,
“The best in town! ” declared Robbo.
It wouldn’t be a Friday night, if we didn’t go for an Indian.
“No need for menus, pal, Vindaloo all round! ” shouted Robbo.
“Pint each, and make the Vindaloo Hot! ”
By chucking out time, I’ve downed ten pints,
It wouldn’t be a Friday night, if we didn’t go for an Indian.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ps - and dialog in a Villanelle? you would be so bold.