THE BORE

He sat on a stool at a little bar
With a glass of beer and a cheap cigar. 
He told of the wonderful things he'd done
And the places he'd been beneath the sun, 
No one listened to what he said
And the bartender wished he'd drop down dead, 
But he didn't quarrel or he didn't shout
There was no good reason to throw him out. 
He seemed to think he had the floor
Just one of those things, a natural bore. 
Where ever you go or where, ever you are
You'll always find one there at the bar, 
With a cheap cigar and a whiskey glass
Telling the world he's a HORSES ____.

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