come choked up bled up fed up folks and drink my robust brew my sweet Catawba no, my sauterene or rock and rye brush that musty blue off your cog stained collar and stay a while pay a while two beers later when your tongue seethes dry try my salt savored fish, my baked bean surprise tilt your nostrils and inhale my dried herring my free lunched ties really please the eyes I’ll saturate your wet drawn gobs like sand slips through sieves teasing you by my strategic arrayed feast until dollars are quenched out by watering tongues that then dry the eyes so come stand social where men may be men enter through my wood swinging shut -tered realm and slug down your ticking inhibitions gobble up this wonderful enterprise and leave with that coat savored by the mixed smell of sawdust, alcohol and cigars hell, there’s no manners here and class only exists in tolerance for it feeds a fine exchange for a parcel of wage to forget that day you bonded your body to your lady’s gaze to forget the rascals of tots that teeth at you feet to forgot the boss that tills your knees so lets play mirror medley choose your poison and chose it quick this may be the Poor Man’s Retreat but pocket less men make me tick
This historical poem was meant to capture the "Salon Keepers" before the prohibition, where mostly blue collared workers sought a public sanctuary from their demanding lives. It was a known fact that the Salon Keeper would present these men with salty food, free of charge in order to get them to stay longer and drink longer.