Why I'm Drinking Alone

When we got off the train at Outh Station
my mouth was as dry as ancient parchment
that had been baking in the hell-hot sun
for centuries. Ouch! This meant I was bent
on finding a pub and getting a drink
as soon as possible. The Railway Inn
was nearby and I was tempted. ‘I think
that looks like a dump, we’d best not go in,’
said my travelling companion. ‘I’m sure
there will be a nicer establishment
to be found.’ However, The Bleeding Boar
didn’t suit. Nor did The Old Dodgy Gent
‘s Arms. Finally we reached The Mardy Ewe.
‘In I go,’ I said, ‘with or without you.’