I Have Assumed The Position, Sir...

I'm Your Bar Stool

I see we are open again.

It’s time to welcome old friends.

The homely, the lonely, 

they who want only

to have somewhere to place their rear ends. 

The people I bear are so glad.

The stories I hear are not bad.

Where I smell the beers

and I taste the tears 

of the sad, and they who are driven mad.

So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat.

I am here to help you take your mind off your feet.

All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes.

I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums.

Here comes a raving beauty, this is gunna be fun.

An hour glass figure; tight blue jeans - where do those legs run?

But why has she stopped walking?

Can’t she just stop talking!

Oh no, wait - this bloke’s fat and ugly and he weighs two tonne.

Barroom stools have feelings too.

They just don’t see a pretty face,

although they love to touch the cheeks

that are in some other place -

So come in, come on, come over - come over and take a seat.

I am here to help you take your mind off your feet.

All day I sit here waiting for everyone who comes.

I am your barroom bar-stool, who welcomes all your bums.

Now here comes the girl that I’m looking for.

An hour glass figure and parts to explore.

Her blonde hair’s amazing;

I feel like hell raising,

for bar stools like you also like to score. 

The life of a bar-stool is a life worth living.

Supporting the souls who need forgiving.

I’m hoping each minute the perfect one comes,

‘cause I’m sick of tired of supporting old bums.

~ Lindsay Laurie