18/03/2025
Farewell from the Crown
Well, folks, it’s time to raise a glass,
The final toast before we pass,
From the bar that’s been our sacred ground,
The Crown, where joy and tales abound.
From Sacha and Simon, and Morgan too,
And our canine crew (yes, that’s your cue),
Hagrid the wolfhound, regal and tall,
And Fazel, the shepherd, boss of us all.
We’ve poured the pints, the Jäger flowed,
With music loud and spirits glowed,
Through nights of laughter, wild and long,
A jukebox anthem, a roaring song.
Oh, the staff—past, present, and legends they are,
The life and soul behind the bar,
From pulling pints to the midnight clean,
You’ve kept the Crown a living dream.
The customers—what a motley crew,
With jokes and stories (and a tall tale or two),
You drank us dry, you made us grin,
And sometimes stagger (and sometimes spin).
Remember the Jäger? Of course, you do,
Shots for the crowd, then “One more!” or two,
We’ve danced on tables, we’ve howled at the moon,
And cursed the mornings that came too soon.
Now the dogs will miss their pub-bound throne,
Their pats and treats, their kingdom known,
Hagrid’s lean, Fazel’s sly grin,
Their reign ends here—but they’ll still win.
So here’s goodbye, our dearest friends,
To nights of glory that never end,
We’ll take the Crown in our hearts, that’s true,
And carry a piece of it, thanks to you.
For this is not the end, just a cheer,
For all the memories made right here,
Keep the music loud, the pints in flow,
And let the spirit of the Crown still grow.
Cheers!
