There are many times when The Grey Lodge Pub is exactly the sort of bar that when Scoats started off here more than 12 years ago he always hoped to run. The sort of place where strangers can get to talking over a beer or two, share thoughts and ideas, and become friends. He got a very pleasant surprise when Paul Coff handed him this poem he wrote about the late Herb Brown. Herb was a really special and talented guy. Paul had only met him once, and a little while later called Herb's house only to find he had passed away the prior week. Herb would have loved it.
"Requiem for a Heavyweight"
a poem by Paul Coff
"British bitterish?" I looked,
turned to the sound
stepping in to go a round.
I'd come for a beer but the rock got rolling at the Grey,
hops scent shelter from the incandescent day
We talked beer, words, pc, finally fortunately poetry.
He said a lot worth saying without a lot of quotery,
compare and contrast to "me quoting me".
I wrote only haiku for over a year. He wrote 'em too,
named the plus or minus 1 "bastard haiku",
"Son of Bastard haiku" Too full or few by two .
"Do you like Dylan?" "Dylan who?"
"No, seriously, straight I only like him when he's great".
"Once boiled 114 pages down to 1 and one third"
He bought the "18 volume unabridged" for one just word,
just so's he could find the just sos.
"Write because I have to". "Me too", who knows?
"Longhand? Keeps its character, word processor, sir, really flows".
Better those minutes with you than local laureates downtown
And so it goes,
Glad we had that beer, Herb Brown,
before last call sent you home.
Paul Coff
© Paul Coff 2006. Used with permission.
Paul also wrote this other wonderful poem about the Grey Lodge.
"The Grey Lodge Pub"
a poem by Paul Coff
said the guy whod had a good beer past two too many.
Theres also the G, says I.
No, this is the only, says the guy.
The Grey Lodge does it right, says the other.
More great beer for less bucks, I add.
Then he tells me hes the owner.
I mightve made him mad
Here for the beer? Not quite.
The competition says Scoats does it right.
The best of selections, the bar kept with care,
the Brews Who and Brewhahas are already there.
Theres two ways to do it right, I think.
Become a beer chef and make the drink.
Then youre stuck with brews from a single master.
The other way is better and maybe faster.
You could get the best with knowledge and luck
in traditional take away kegs brought by truck,
with names like Lunacy and Old Horizontal.
The poets were here naming beers, you can tell.
The crowds smart and funny and full of good cheer.
Conversations good too, though it veers towards the beer.
Not oddly youll find no thugs at this bar,
just regular folks who come as they are.
The darts hit the board with that musical thump
like a small axe struck in a hardwood stump.
The poppers and wings appear and disappear,
the magicians are somewhere here, drinking beer.
An old neighborhood tappy where everythings wood,
the jukes gone galactic, the bar foods real good.
Yes, the beers special, but Here for the beer?
Its the place and the people, Im here to be here.
© Paul Coff 2007.
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