Book: — A horse walks into a bar by David Grossman
O’Leary’s bar, was by far
the essential place at which to be seen
You can take the family the fun is clean,
Go by foot, or bike, train, bus or car
The star attraction, seen in action
was barely possible to believe in accounts
jokes told by a horse, not by DRUNKEN gobby louts.
One excited drinker ended UP in hospital in traction
Joseph O’Leary had been oh so weary
of comics that played houses, insulted and run
Whereas the horse told jokes about various feats of fun
He Delighted in people, never ever making them dreary
So people flocked in, trying ale and gin
Eagerly passing the hours till showtime
They found the equestrian so powerfully sublime
His jests and teases and occasional sneezes, chardrin
The horse was to blame for his stage name
He never used or revealed his original one
His well connected sisters beneath an Aristocrat’s bum
‘Justin Bayer Head’ a signature without any shame
His content was clean, smutt never heard or seen
His stories always described life going soft firm or hard
The punch lines timing, perfection unhurried, never jarred
The Moral or Anecdotal tales Never ever spiteful or mean
O’Leary being beery renamed the bar ‘Nags Head’
And his comic left in great anger and damnation
For noble beasts enjoy their general admiration
Nags told gags, and that was far beneath this wondrous Thoroughbred
Joseph pined and he became much maligned
And all his regulars very soon deserted
For they by flyer and newspaper were soon alerted
Their comic Justin had been, by a nearby bar, signed
Comedy twice nightly, proclaimed quite rightly
By a noble horse of manners with great repartie and wit
Bring the kids for they will hear no …. smutt
This is a class act that is winning evry nightly
O’Leary closed his bar having lost his star,
His stools, tables and chairs all were forlorn
His fortune unbridalled, unstabled alas it was all gorn
He chucked his belongings in the boot of his shabby old car
Joseph unfortunate man, had a huge flaw in his plan
His gasoline measured in only milli litres
By the next bar, his engine just coughs and peters
A familiar voice drifted from a face just lifted over the saloon door jam
The joke was familiar, he had heard lots similar
Of a foul mouthed parrot that got cured of its filth
Its owner having shoved the vile bird in a freezer
Determined to tease her with The fate of the chickens beneath
O’Leary hung round until no further sound
And entered the stage door at the back
Forgive me Justin I am broke so alas and alack
But the horse stated I am very okay here thanks, … I shall never ever ever be back
