The Foot of the Walk – R.I.P.
An elegy to the Wetherspoons in Leith, which closed on Sunday.
Stop all the clocks
Cut off the telephone
The last pint’s been poured
The last punch been thrown.
Rebottle the wine
Unpop the cork
They’ve called for last orders
At The Foot of the Walk.
A lager, a cocktail,
A vodka, a dram
A palace of gin
Accessible by tram.
Its doors were too many
Its ceilings too high
But I still want to try
Drinking it dry.
I could stay there all day
There was no need to leave
With the BBC News channel
And unlimited coffee.
The menu offered all the food
A drunkard could crave
Fresh out the kitchen
(Or the kitchen’s microwave.)
But dab those eyes dry
Reverse that old frown
It’s a JD Wetherspoon pub —
There’s five more in town.