Lush Places: a love letter to our local
OUR PUB re-opens next week and we’re getting very excited.
Oh how we’ve missed it. A couple of months ago, when it seemed all hope was lost, Lush Places penned its very own community poem, each person contributing one or two lines and egged on by that Wondermentalist, the performance poet Matt Harvey, as part of an Artsreach show.
If, like me, you’re a lover of brevity, this poem is no haiku or limerick. But it’s well worth a read to the end. We’ve passed this love letter to our local to Palmers Brewery who say they have never seen anything quite like it.
So here goes…
An ode to the White Lion
In the bar the lion sleeps tonight
They say the White Lion roams on Lewesdon Hill
‘Is anybody there?’ said the traveller
The open pub will have to do good grub
I went there once and had a pie
One landlord with more than eyes for the ladies and another one who was as miserable as Hades
We need people to cheer where there is beer
Like Shipton Gorge’s New Inn, the Lion will be a-brewin
Ruling the world from Compost Corner
Warm and welcoming, friendly to dogs
T’was the White Lion in Lush Places where I did want to dine
Miss the hairy sofa
I have never seen a white lion
Fuggy, muggy air seeps through, contaminating passers-by
The Lion is closed, the Lion is dead, long live the Lion
Oh to be in the White Lion now that winter’s here
Endless possibilities
A warm glass of Chardonnay from a fridge too far
After a few wines I too roar like a lion
Don’t lean on the wall Fred
Come back John and Sue
An inviting place of comfort and warmth
I’d like ice with mine…
The White Lion has joined the other myths of Dorset, such as the black dog of Common Water Lane
Squishy, squashy dog-hair sofa. The pub with no beer or any other cheer
That Palmers is rank again, like making love in a punt – near water
The garden is full of frogs
Last orders…pleeease
Tricky Dicky and Domestic Pam
Please give us basic pub food e.g. local sausages and mash
The lion is white with fright at the beer here
We miss our pub which we should use for happy evenings, food and booze
Road safety, don’t tear round the White line/Lion
New Year conga round the village
All we’re left with is a lonely pub and no beer
‘What do you mean there is no Guinness?’
We miss the cheer. The clink of glasses – the bubble of voices
The White Lion lives with my husband under the kitchen table
Open again soon.
The White Lion, dream of the hunters? Where oh where is all the beer?
A giggling group gathered in Compost Corner. A pub of dwindling renown
Palmers, re-open our long dark pale pussy cat
The White Lion lost its roar and customers galore, smiling, laughter, no frowning or scowls.
The buzz and banter of a pub in the community
Come back, come back, the hunt is here
The weather vane on the roof spins round and round
Lots of jolly people, great expectations
We had a pleasant jar served up by landlord ex-QPR
The White Lion is closed
Will rise like a Phoenix
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