That damn Bell’s, sancerre & me….

    I
A can of ale, three nights ago,
  Alone and balefully loitering;
The fridge is where I always look
    For the slaking.

    II
But that can fail’d me; not enough!
  So piss’d off that the beer’s all gone!
The squirrel’s gran’ry may be full,
    But my fridge is done.

    III
There is a shop just up the road:
  Refreshments moist, some amber dew,
And (with a cheque) a fresh rosé:
    Fast run thereto!

    IV
I know a lady in that shop
  Not all that young; a fifties child.
Her eyes are cross’d, her foot not light,
    And her hair is wild.

    V
I made a beeline for the beer
  Some bottles too – a fragrant Beaune;
She star’d at me as I did shop;
    And made me moan.

    VI
I paid her with a bouncing cheque,
  And promis’d I’d be back ere long,
Then sidl’d off with bottled clinks
    And beery song.

    VII
I slunk back next day hellish sweet,
  To buy some mild, and whisky too,
And in a language strange she said -
    “I have needs too”….

    VIII
She took me to the storage room,
  And there I wept and sigh’d some more,
And there I shut my eyes and paid;
    There, on the floor.

    IX
And when she was at last asleep,
  And dreaming of – Ah! woe betide!
The fastest dash I ever dash’d,
    To the cold outside.

    X
Yet: I need more ale, more whisky too:
  Ale warrior as I was, for all
I tried – that well-built dame sans merci
    Hath me by the balls….

    XI
I see her starv’d lips in the morn
  With horrid warning gap’d full wide
When I awake and find her still here;
    Me on the quiltless side.

    XII
And this is why – I still need beer;
  Though unalone and balefully loitering,
At least the fridge is full when I look
    For the slaking….