The Seamen's Bar

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[HR][/HR]The Seamen’s Bar

Sailors are a wanderin’ breed,
Who’s travels take them far,
No matter where his ship is moored,
He’s bound to find a bar.

The ”Straits Cabaret”, in Singapore,
You can taste ”San Mig”, or “Anchor”,
And the “business ladies” couldn’t care less,
If you’re a seaman or a banker.

Try the “Cabbage Patch”, or “Mama’s”,
In Hamburg’s Reeperbahn,
Or “Dannys” bar in Antwerp,
Where the “she’ is very much man.

“Mabels” in Port Harcourt, swigging African “Tombo” gin,
Cuba Libres in Havana, now there’s a place for sin,
The ”Spanish House” in Liverpool, sampling from a fine wine cask,
Cruising the “Gut” in Malta, a most enjoyable task.

They say, that in Mexico’s Vera Cruz.
Her pavements are made of marble,
I never noticed to tell the truth,
As my speech did tend to garble.

There’s the Texas bar in Lisbon,
Fine place to “pop the cork”,
Maybe ‘jump’ a big “Cunarder”,
To the “Market Diner” in New York.

“Delmonico’s” in Capetown,
Where they sell the fine “Cape Smoke”,
“Doris’s” bar in Kingston,
Buying rum, that’s cheaper than coke.

“Venus”, “O.K.”, and “Mosquito”,
Close to the wharf in Bangkok,
“Monkey” brand whisky at six bob a bott.,
And the ”ladies” perform round the clock

“ Simon Mcleods” in Aberdeen,
Filled wi’ trawlermen, bent on a spree,
Hard drinkers, their hands and faces raw,
Just in, from the bitter North Sea.

The “Spitfire” club in Fama-g, that’s situated handy,
Or “Pam’s bar drinkin’ “Keo”, a fiery Cyprus brandy,
Istanbul’s “Mogambo”. Sitting huddled in the dark,
Wonderin’ what’s inside your glass, it gives a decent “ spark.”

Three times I tried in “Nyhavn”,
Copenhagen’s world famous Street,
To have a “tincture” in every pub,
But got “let down”, by my feet.

“Red Lion’, and “Blue Peter”,
On a hot dry afternoon,
A Ben Line base, and meeting place,
In densely packed Kowloon.

Then off to the popular “Chantecleer”,
The “New” and “Happy World”,
Where they patiently sit, with cheong-sam’s split,
And beckon, with fingers curled.

Or “Charlie Browns”, the “Masons”,
A pint in the “Steps” or “Blue Posts”,
In London’s sprawling dockland,
You will find them, most genial hosts.

From the ‘Windmill’ in Casablanca
To “Joe Beefs” in Montreal,
Dockside pubs, are much the same,
See one, you’ve seen them all.

The lure of “Sailortown” will always be there,
‘Neath the shaded red lanterns swing,
Music, laughter, and love, at a price,
Where you sometimes feel, like a King.

But its always pleasant to reminisce,
Sweet memories, I fondly can dream,
Of my Global, pub crawling, younger days,
With good shipmates, held high in esteem.




That would make for one hell of a pub crawl.