His meagre zest would soon decay
When Jeff began his working day.
He hated working in a pub.
Dealings with Beelzebub

Would be appealing if that beast
Could permeate his life with yeast
So it would rise and he could find
A job to animate his mind.

Full-time drinkers chose careers
As part-time thinkers steeped in beers.
Thoughts ran wild without a leash.
These dreadful bores had found their niche

In spouting outright balderdash
And touting plans for making cash.
Their thoughts about the food they've had
Were never short of barking mad.

Jeff would have to hear their views
On cooking all desserts in stews.
The listener had little choice.
He had to hear the same advice

Repeated time and time again.
They'd tell him he should buy a hen
And keep its eggs inside a sock
That has a clasp to hold a lock.

This sock should spend six hours a day
Inside a stew of beans and whey
And chocolate fudge with double cream
To feed a thrilling troubled dream.

Jeff felt cursed by all he heard.
His ears would ache with every word.
He'd lie awake in bed at night
And try to let his mind take flight,

To float up high without its weights,
Where satellites have garden gates
And picket fences round their lawns
And awe-inspiring views of dawns.

But thoughts of work confined to earth
A mind that failed to feel the worth
Of wasting time discussing why
A crescent moon consumes the sky

Until it's fat and feels unwell
And spews a most unpleasant gel
On heads of those heroic men
Returning home to feed their hen

At half-past-two while neighbours sleep
And chatty birds still chirp and cheep,
And caped crusaders hop and skip
With lollipops in garlic dip.

When football thrills left drinkers buoyed
And Jeff's morale had been destroyed,
A well-heeled man in hobnailed boots
Related tales of men in suits

Who camp on lonely mountainsides
And wait for caves to issue brides.
Happy couples set up home
And banish days of monochrome,

With colours added to their lives,
Souls with star-like sparks that wives
Can generate with perfect ease
And light a fire to melt a freeze.

Jeff was quick to lose his cool.
He called this man a total fool
And ridiculed these doubtful claims
Of cave-made wives igniting flames.

This man took Jeff to see a cave
Where mountain air and aftershave
Combined to make a pungent smell
To lure the cave's beguiling belle.

Jeff saw many matches made.
The potent silent serenade
Of these intoxicating scents
United brides and dapper gents.

Nowadays he loves his work.
In drinkers' words great wonders lurk.
Their notions don't assault his ears
And he believes all that he hears.