Old Reds
Molly was a red,
her politics even redder than her hair.
She met in the city centre pub
every Tuesday night
with the three Tommys,
a Gramscian Tommy,
a New
and of course,
Tommy the Trot.
Every Tuesday night
they met and argued
about the Spanish Civil War.
They’d been doing it for years,
decades in fact
every Tuesday night
their voices undiminished by age
growing louder and louder
as the Guinness worked it’s magic
spilling over a little as fists banged the table
every Tuesday night.
But the new Landlady was no respecter of age,
“Youse come in here disturbing the peace again
next Tuesday and yer all banned”, she cried!
“Well”, said Molly ,“that’s not very comradely!”
Quietly,
at last they all agreed.
her politics even redder than her hair.
She met in the city centre pub
every Tuesday night
with the three Tommys,
a Gramscian Tommy,
a New
and of course,
Tommy the Trot.
Every Tuesday night
they met and argued
about the Spanish Civil War.
They’d been doing it for years,
decades in fact
every Tuesday night
their voices undiminished by age
growing louder and louder
as the Guinness worked it’s magic
spilling over a little as fists banged the table
every Tuesday night.
But the new Landlady was no respecter of age,
“Youse come in here disturbing the peace again
next Tuesday and yer all banned”, she cried!
“Well”, said Molly ,“that’s not very comradely!”
Quietly,
at last they all agreed.
https://mercurialstories.com/2019/03/17/volume-2-issue-4-red/2/
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