One for the Leathernecks

[pcox]

The Peon's Pub


Come my friends and fighting men,
Buy me just one more beer.
Then I'll tell you of this room, the slime and gloom,
And the things that happen here.

Though I'm just a boot around the old slop-chute,
But brother she is not like the book.
I won't spare the Corp's face while describing the place,
Now here is just how she looks.

There is dust and grit and tobacco spit,
Smeared through out the club.
That honey dipper smell like a scent from hell,
You recieve at the Peon's Pub.

Broken light bulbs and cigarette stubs,
Are scattered through the pub house hall.
Long tailed rats and leather winged bats,
Come in through the cracks in the wall.

Drunk Leathernecks who here spent their checks,
Lay asleep on the Pub hall floor.
A K-Bar point you can see in the joint,
It sticks through the bar room door.

There is the King of Clubs on the big light bulbs,
That shine down on the floor.
The Ace of Spades painted on the shades,
A dragon on the door.

So we like to cheer and drink our beer,
In the best known hole around.
It's plain to see she is what we want her to be,
If the M.P.s don't shut her down.

by
PFC Tex.
(The Pubs Longfellow)

:1948::icon_salut:

[CharlieEcho]

Twenty some years ago in small town far far away; The owners of the local pub were in debt and for some reason the ole'place caught fire. Damaged beyond fix-in they tore it down. Some of the bricks are now a pathway in my wife's garden. The local guys had no place to come and go and drink their beer. Except the tool room at the local grain elevator. That's where we would go each day after work hours. One of the guys had a young daughter, now a teacher, who sometimes stopped by with her mother. She didn't talk very well that long ago, being so young. When she talked about the elevator it sounded like she was saying alligator. We got to calling it the Alligator Lounge. The name stuck and that's what the tool room is called today. They have a new pub in town so it's not used anymore. But it sounds a lot like The Peon's Pub.
:1948:

[pcox]

I found that poem in a suitcase filled with the uniforms, dogtags, platoon photos, and other memorabilia of a WW11 Marine. It was in a small antique shop near my home. The gal who owned the placed priced the whole lot to me and I think I will go back there in the am and buy it.