The Church, the Post Office, the Bank, <br />Alright, but the pub is the hub. <br /> <br />The Village Hall or Green, the car boot sale, <br />Of course, but the pub is the hub. <br /> <br />Leather on willow, oval or round ball on Playing Field mud, <br />Jolly good, but the pub is the hub. <br /> <br />Fish ‘n’ Chip Shop, Takeaway, Curry House, <br />Yum, yum, but the pub is the hub. <br /> <br />Big Ben, St Paul’s, Madame Tussaud’s, <br />Mais oui, but the pub is the hub. <br /> <br />The pub to rub shoulders with neighbours or strangers, <br />The pub for a pint and some no-nonsense grub. <br />The pub to talk politics, sport or hydrangeas, <br />The pub to feel snug as a bug in a rug. <br /> <br />I’ve read in the press of the Death of the Pub. <br />Quite likely this claim is way over the top, <br />But thirty-nine boozers are closing each week, <br />That makes near one hundred and sixty a month, <br /> <br />Which means about one thousand nine hundred a year, <br />So how long before there is not one pub left? <br />No Wheatsheaf, no King’s Head, no old Rose and Crown, <br />No focus, no fulcrum for village or town. <br /> <br />Nowhere to play snooker, darts, cribbage or skittles, <br />No Milk Stout, no Pale Ale, no Lager, no Bitter. <br />You’re left with your mobile, your Facebook, your Twitter, <br />All fine in their way, not the same as a pub. <br /> <br />McDonald’s or Starbucks and Cybercafés, <br />Such places are where people hang out today. <br />I’ve nothing against them, they all are OK, <br />But the pub is the hub! <br /> <br />3/7/09<br /><br />Denys E. W. Jones<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-pub-is-the-hub/
