Ant Smith

All poems

In the weatherspoons

There's a smell of the dustbins when you walk in
You can't make your order because of the din
There's a busty blonde with a dull glad eye
With a bucket of violence that acts like a guy

In the weatherspoons
I'm in the weatherspoons
In the weatherspoons
With you

There's a ten pound minimum charge on cards
There's only plastic glasses behind the bar
The vomit in the loo sticks to your shoes
And the jukebox only plays the blues

In the weatherspoons
I'm in the weatherspoons
In the weatherspoons
With you

There's a badly knitted alien on a visit from the moon
his nose drips spunk when you play a certain tune
He looks more like me than he looks like you
I fucking love it in the weatherspoons

In the weatherspoons
I'm in the weatherspoons
In the weatherspoons
With you