A decent man who periodically took umbrage or found strife
journeyed between two country inns all of his village life.
Falling in at The Angel, having falling out at The Lamb,
in time his patronage reversed where he went for a dram;
he fell out where he fell in, and back in where he fell out.
The trigger for these country hostelry transitions
depended upon a range of personal dispositions -
most commonly fellow patrons taking opposing positions.
Occasionally it was the food from the inn kitchen;
and even the publican’s views by his own admission.
These changes of allegiance bore little rhyme or reason
in a village rich with innuendo and petty treason,
such activities covered the slow passing of the season.
Never time for self reflection, thought, meaning or rhyme
it was as if these places had somehow committed a crime.
However, he returned, it wasn’t as if he had a choice;
there were few other places within miles to raise his voice.