Nothing on the telly, conversation all
dried up
Fancy going out to drink from the
amber cup
Wife said I’m sick of you, go on get
out of here
I wasn’t to tell twice, I’m off to the
pub for a beer.

You’re guaranteed a welcome, it’s
always full of cheer
Then I read the note upon the door
Sorry, we’ve run out of beer.

I ask Dave the barman, What am I
going to do?
The barman said, Geoff, have a
whisky or two.
Six or seven later, my vision’s not that
clear
Funny I don’t feel like this when I’m
drinking beer.

I try to get up, my knees refuse to
stand
The old boy in the corner gives me a
hand.
I stagger out the door, I think that’s
queer
Why has the pub run out of beer?

I make my way to the brewery and it
all becomes clear
The place is boarded up, they’ve
stopped making beer.
My heart fills with sadness, I wipe
away a tear
What’s the point of going to the pub if
they ain’t got no beer?

Well there’s only one thing left, but it
fills me with dread
I’ll have to go to the supermarket and
buy tinnies instead.

Geoff Clay, Bishop Auckland.