We’re invited for lunch at a neighbouring pub,
“The Nag’s Head”, where it’s said they serve excellent grub.
The beer’s fully English, the cooking is French,
And since it is sunny, the table and bench
In the garden provide an agreeable venue
To swallow a pint while consulting the menu.
The waitress arrives, but she’s sorry to say
That everything’s off but the dish of the day.
We decide that we’ll have it, we’ve nothing to lose;
The weather is fine and there’s plenty of booze:
G & T for the ladies; the men stick to beers.
At last it is ready; our luncheon appears.
When the dish is uncovered, our appetite wanes -
They’ve boiled a whole nag’s head, with bridle and reins.
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