Ben Barley was a barman stout Who drank both day and night, Which made him heavy, dull and fat Though all he drank was Light. He slowly drank himself to death, And at his wake so drear, Although 'twas he who'd passed away, The guests laid on the beer. His ghost came in and asked for gin In accents strange and far. The landlord said, 'Clear off; we don't Serve spirits in this bar.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HELMSMAN by HILDA DOOLITTLE TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 16. A FAREWELL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE FANCIES AT NAVESINK: 7 by WALT WHITMAN THE HUSKERS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER DIRGE FOR THE LATE JAMES CURRIE, M.D., OF LIVERPOOL by LUCY AIKEN AH, WOE IS ME! MY MOTHER DEAR by ROBERT BURNS |