We're All Drinking For George

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

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2016