Refuge

I hear my sweetheart’s cackle
as she’s coming down the stairs.
That’s my cue to grab my coat
and leg it to O’Hare’s.

I’m always welcome at O’Hare’s,
where I can be alone,
along with twenty other guys
whose sweethearts are at home.

It’s good to have a refuge
from domestic cares,
or as we like to call it,
the pub for wounded bears.


 

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