Ode To A Forgotten Pint
Continuing my Thetford theme, this poem laments the passing of many of Thetford’s popular drinking establishments.
I’ve supped a few pints in the Plover
and sipped the odd Rum at the Rights
it used to take all day to recover
from those hazy Thetford nights.
I used to drink at the Bridge,
imbibing bottles of Brown,
but it’s nothing short of sacrilege
that now they’ve closed it down!
We didn’t have to walk very far
if for a drink we were heard to clamour,
we could have a quick one in the Star
and end up at the Trowel and Hammer.
The Angel in the market long since fell
and you no longer hear The Red Lion roar
The Dolphin flounders in financial hell
– all yesterday’s pubs that exist no more.
But the saddest sight of Thetford’s past,
is the sorry shell that was once the Anchor,
by the river where its memories cast
fading shadows drunk with anger.
These are all pubs that I recall…
These are all pubs that have closed their doors..
that will never again be on the pub crawl,
when at ‘Last Orders’ you’d be on all fours.
So now we’re left with the King’s Head,
The Terrier, Railway and the Green Dragon..
The Chase is great if you want to be fed
or you can drink and be merry in the Albion.
But my friends, the point I make is this –
it don’t matter where you get your beers,
‘cos if another pub closes, it’s not the booze you’ll miss
or the kindred souls who all shout ‘Cheers!’
It’s the cheerful greeting from a happy face
where all the people know your name;
it’s the loss of the warmth of a friendly place
that would be the real shame!
But think of the problem if we lived in Bury town..
Consider the moral and ponder it well..
that if one by one the pubs all closed down
and the last to go was the Nutshell…