Friday night’s for fighting
It’s Rose and crown vs canvas and brush
Scholar’s on tap to summon the black hats
Will it be brother or blood?
Emerald eyes smell fear and loathing
A chalice of malice passes like communion wine
For a sack of coal you can be out cold
Friday nights are Christmas time
It’s their round for a pound
Two squares stand up to box
Two circle to try angles
A proposal of hunters with no fox
Who will reach the engine room?
Who will smash the crown jewels?
Can Don the diamond produce a shiner or will the piper play the fool?
These two are a blue moon rising
Wolves howling about spilled pints, trodden toes and their rights
Spaces invaded, the only white flags are from those on the side
Wishing it was Saturday.