Thomas Doubting


The Pub At The End Of The Road - Poem by Thomas Doubting

The lights of the city are guiding
I didn't see them go on
The neon lights are brighter
Give me something not as strong

The pub at the end of the road
Is open 'till quarter past two
They usually should close much earlier
But they're keeping an eye out for you

There's these guys who played pub quiz all evening
And they go home half-broke but content
'Cause money to make your mates happy
Is a lot but still money well-spent

The owner has thousands of stories
He's kind of a friend of mine
And we drink between old, wooden tables
And no one keeps track of the time

The pub at the end of the road
Is a place now with new velvet seats
And the coffees and cookies are tiny
And all is so terribly neat

The owner is still around there
And he keeps his hand out for a quid
And he's got his own view on the end of the world
He points at the new house: “That's it.”

And sometimes we sit there together
Don't care what the others may think
We look at the newest of buildings
And we're sharing our past and a drink


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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 11, 2007

Poem Edited: Friday, February 25, 2011


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