The stools are hard
And the counter soft with treated wood
Metal trashcans turned over for tables
An unfinished game of checkers in the corner
Faint scent of burning frankincense
A group stands around outside
There is a bonfire tonight
They laugh and joke
Forgetting life for a little while
With a pint in hand and smiles grand
While you and I sit inside
Tasting a new ale that's come around
Watching the clouds come in
You complaining over the match
An old game but somehow your city lost
I nurse a bitter ale though it's quite nice
Enjoying the voices of this small town
We toast like they do in your home
Nazdarovya!
To our health