Cheers

Bombardier, Mustachio, Squint, Festooning, Shadowed, Rose


Cheers

We raise our glasses filled with an English Bitter
As we sit in some cheery pub, a cask and a keg
Of ale, Bombardier; tis the day of St. George, April 23rd,
To Celebrate some ole chap who might never been British.

Those Englishmen tend to exaggerate the importance of
This man who may have been no Saint, wearing in their
Lapel a Red Rose and festooning their drinking dens with
Garlands of St. George’s cross. Yet, we find in the midst

Of their pleasure with malt, barley and hops, no invidious
Acrimony ‘gainst those who wear not the Rose. Instead there
Is an enormous congeniality and conviviality amidst the
Clinking of mugs. Crikey! Upon my word there are blokes

Wearing a fake mustachio and nose! Bombardier has made
Them cheerfully cockamamie, but pleasantly so, as we share
Their festivities and laughter. The ceiling fans whir without
Effect as we sit in some smoke filled shadowed tavern that

Makes us squint. We make our rounds from pub to pub, find
Our friends and make some new. Ah . . . but here’s the rub, let’s
Not become so drunk we can neither stand, nor sit upon our
Stool; for surely St. George has never been the patron of a tap house.