We’re All Drinking For George
We
chat in measured mumbles
In
our twos and in our threes
Balancing
thin cups upon their saucers
Sure it was a
hard way to go,
and everybody knows it
Very hard on his
family
we’re all thinking
But
no-one talks about the real problem
No-one
mentions George and his drinking
Everyone
thinks about the good times
He was a good
sort,
and great company
With
a quick joke on his lips, or telling a tall tale
Holding
court in his favourite corner
Lewd
laughter, green eyes twinkling
Ever-ready
for another, if we’d set them up,
Another
long night of George and his drinking
No
mention of the damage he was doing
Destroying
his guts from the inside
His
liver wet-rotting, blood-pressure bubbling
His
florid face and trembling hands
Everyone
here knew that he was sinking
But he took a
long time over his dying
And
that’s what George got for his drinking
Where
were these old drinking companions
When
he started losing his way?
Down
and damaged, calling the odds
Worse
for wear, falling down drunk?
In
his cups first thing in the morning
Unsavoury,
unwashed and stinking
Unable
to get served anywhere?
We daren’t join in with George and his
drinking
A
murmur goes round the black-coated room
This tea and
coffee’s meagre stuff for mourning
There’s
a move to push off down to the pub
No-one’s
looking his family in the eye
Everyone
trying not to cause any offence
It’s what he
would’ve wanted,
did someone say?
A
sliding off for something stronger
And
admit we’re all drinking for George today
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