Rural pub

Take home our home-made fish and chips,
Take home our curry sauce.
Take home our jumbo sausage meal:
"Enough to feed a horse".

Take home our oak-wood family vibe,
Our dogs-welcome guarantee,
But most of all please take some chips,
With battered mediocrity.

Take home our "famous" mushy peas,
Our two-for-one on pies.
Take home our failing marriage
Which was built on guilty lies.

Take home-our fresh-cooked scampi —
It's really rather nice!
Except on the occasion
The chef deep-fries it twice.

It's hard to keep good staff, you see,
Our preference is older.
But this new lad came with this own pans
And a first-class references folder.

Take home a special pickled egg,
Take home our witless banter.
Take home our low-brow monthly quiz,
Which you'll win at a canter.

Take home our home-made fish and chips,
Take home our curry sauce
And our fucking failing marriage
With impending divorce.