AT THE BARS

 

The bars are such a varied place,

There is much more than meets the face.

 

The yuppies, yippies, studs and jocks,

The workers, alc'ies, jerks and docs.

 

People come from all around,

To meet, to gather withhopes abound.

 

Some drown their sorrows and shed their tears,

To free them from their lonesome fears.

 

Others come celebrate their joys,

Praise ambitions they've employed.

 

Casual sex is often sought,

Wandering eyes so often caught.

 

Visual seduction with hopes transferred,

Small talk made without a word.

 

Dancing, flirting, singing, struttiní,

Dressed to the 'T', to sock and button.

 

People there take such care,

To make-up their body, and do their hair.

 

The noisy smoke filled room is loud,

Which smells like beer upon the ground.

 

"Whiskey, wine, what'll it be?",

"A pitcher' fine. With glasses for three?

 

The bar tender or waitress will get you ripped,

But only if you leave a tip.

 

And if you do they'll look back and say

"Thank you sir, have a good day."

 

Lady's night, happy hour, the disco or game,

Bring people out who seek the same.

 

Soap opera lives in search of one-nighters,

The rednecks and hoodlums seek out the fighters.

 

The gays and nymphos look for a lover,

The straight and narrow wont pay the cover.

 

Good buddies and couples, rich men and poor,

The shy and aggressive looking to score.

 

There's one thing in common with those from afar,

They've all taken shelter at the bar.

 

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