Crown and Mitre

Sipping a pint in the Crown and Mitre,
admiring in ignorance the naval sculpture.
Drinking myself to death and eves-dropping on audacious banter,
Tasting the ales of heavens' nectar.

The rustic chairs and gruesome glares,
The antique beams and seedy stares.
The beaten regulars and fresh-faced newbies
The hair of the dog and nearly Nazis and drunk again on a Tuesday morning.

Briton's Protection

I'll tame the Red Lion
I'll capture the Eagle
I'll trap the Partridge and snare the Fox

I'll murder the Queen and amputate the King
Pillage the Crown and Mitre and torture the Honest Lawyer

I'll drown the Admiral and sink the Ship
I'll break the Joinery and burn the Fleece

I'll slay the Dragon and scimitar the Saracen
Strangle the Swan and tame the Bear

For these will be my trophies of valour and bravery
To get intoxicated in all that is british and dear to me