The County Hotel

A night, just one night,

Before my big flight.

Should I hammer the wine?

I think I just might.

The atmospheres cheery,

But here is my theory!

It starts with one glass

Then I’m drinking all night.

The room which I eat in

Is plush and upmarket.

The walls filled with prints

And a black and white carpet.

My round tables filled

With the rem’nants of food.

With a bottle of red!

This Spanish wines good 🙂

As I listen intently

To others digressions,

I wince as I hear

A few Cold War confessions.

The old veterans talk

With the quiet of mice

It’s like back in the NAAFI

It’s really quite nice.

But modern life sucks

At the teat of today.

And in ten years or so

There’ll be no one to say

“Yes I fought through the eighties”

“I scared myself witless”

On a positive note…

I won’t get bored shitless!

The staff run around

Making everyone feel

That there’s nothing too much

For their charming appeal.

The chefs ring their bells

And the guys and girls scamper,

Not a problem too much

For this service to hamper.

But to finish I must

Coz my eyesight is fading.

This wine is a fucker

And my mind it’s invading.

So to give up this pen

And wonder to bed

Is the only way forward

…I’m taking the red.

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