The Sad Bastards Club

A happy lot, us Sad Bastards.
We raise our glasses
Kick some asses
Laugh, tell rude jokes
Give the fire a poke
And throw on another log.
We talk of locks
And untimely clocks
And stocks and shares
And dual-purpose chairs
Play the organ, sing and giggle
Until 3 in the morning
When mutually yawning
We tuck ourselves into bed.
A happy lot
Us Sad Bastards.

by Francesca Johnson

Other poems of JOHNSON (71)

Comments (19)

I love this poem. (shhhh- think I might be an anonymous member of it myself?)
Hi Fran Speaking in my capacity as the Chairman, do you think you should be giving away our secrets? . Thoroughly enjoyed. Steve
Sounds like the words of a group of carefree, self-funded retirees messing about on a boat, perhaps? Such delightful irony in your title - and English through and through Your wit is most infectious Fran. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
Can I be a sad bastard too? .......Oh sorry ! ! ! Scrub that......I am one already. Sid xxxx
Nothin' sad bowt that..sounds great! ! Lorraine top 10
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