Harry’s Place

Harry's Bar
Get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo
Ernest’s waiting Gershwin too,
do just whatever you ever have to do
to get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo.

The Heiress sitting at the bar
she wears a coat of Jaguar,
the Barman fills her Bloody Glass
she drinks it, it drinks her class.

Behans lost the manuscript
beneath the bar it’s sodden ripped,
twas only good for pulp and porn
poor genius drunk from dusk till dawn.

In the dive they tickle keys
the cymbals brushed with kissing ease,
and no one ever seems to leave
before the Sun itself does heave

its mass above the Avenues
where Hausmann built in ordered views,
and Adolf did himself amuse
whilst shipping out the vermin Jews.

So get me to Sank Roo Doe Noo
for all are gone who passed there too,
and nothing matters from before
it’s just a bar beyond a door.


© Wolfgar 2019

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