The Magpie Inn

by | Nov 11, 2016 | Poetry | 0 comments

Once you played host to a Queen
Who licked her lips and looked serene.
And, now, you’re home to George and Laura
And Brodie, the dog, whose coats so shiny
She must be buffed-up twice times nightly,
The regimental mascot she could be
Like sunlight glinting through a tree.
And what a trusty lad -the son
True credit to his Dad, and Mum.
The Magpie has an understated aura
A certain air of becalmed order…
And Laura, with her designer’s flair-
Creative flourishes here and there.
George, who stands above the crowd-
Wheels, and circles, round and round.
The Regimental boxing champion-
Steadfast of purpose like a stanchion.
Always makes time to stop and chat
And there’s nothing that’s wrong with that.
Open fires whose flames might seem
The childhood memories of a dream…
Botcherby Hall, the Bowling Green
An unsurpassed and beautiful scene.
Though the magpie is a predatory bird
There’s much that’s here you’ll
come to love….


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