Though the pub patrons do not give him their attention they drink in groups and talk about football
And arts and literature do not interest them the World is ruled by rednecks after all.
Old Les worked in building sites in the city till he retired about eight years ago
And the past three years for him have been quite lonely since to cancer he lost his dear wife Jo,
His children and their children living elsewhere and Les now used to living on his own
But he still misses Jo and he talks of her often she was the dearest friend he had ever known.
Old grey haired Les is a likeable fellow and he’s learned from life the years have made him wise
And when he smiles the gap in his teeth you notice and you can see the kindness in his light brown eyes
He takes a very keen interest in poetry and he writes very good old fashioned rhyme
But now he feels his efforts have been wasted that writing verse nowadays a waste of time.
On friday evenings from now on Les won’t be reciting at the local he says my verses they don’t wish to hear
Perhaps it is not the right place for poetry where fellows after work enjoy their beer
Their interest is in war and politics and football and things that happened through the working day
And they would never even wish to listen to what a wise old poet would have to say.