Joe Keenan

JOE KEENAN

 

Joe Keenan won’t be downing pints no more

The landlord of the George is looking out his Second World War           revolver

Joe Keenan won’t be downing pints no more

The landlord of the Crown and Anchor (don’t think about a rhyme) they found him gibbering on the floor

Joe Keenan won’t be downing pints no more

The hearse is heading down the High Street

To the Cardinal and Ferret Brewery

Where we’ll chuck him in the mash tun

So old Joe will rise in glory

In Old Joe’s Remembrance Bitter

That’ll make them reconsider

Hazy-eyed with taste of Heaven

Turn around and come back from the door.

 

I put together this poem thinking of it as a song, while walking along the side of the Stour Estuary on the Essex/Suffolk border. OBviously, it’s a hymn to Real Ale.

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