There is a place forever mine,
a place I feel at home.

A hum of gentle banter,
a warmth which fills the air.

Barrels full of porter
side by side behind the bar.

I date myself, I know that,
many years since sold that way.

The Guinness poured by gravity,
the slops poured back at top.

There's nothing can be hurried
as the porter fills the glass.

Topped up from barrel at the end,
this process can't be rushed.

Anticipation builds and builds,
the nectar, that first sip.

Knowing, as I drink it, of
the warmth which comes within

And to see the mark each sip
will leave upon the glass.

Of all the things which I may miss
since leaving alcohol alone

There is a place forever mine,
a place I feel at home.