Apologies to Alfred Lord T

Sunset at the Golden Star
'Last orders' called for me
Moaning and jostling our way to the bar
For a last pint of ESB.

But the lazy barman seems asleep
As fellows rant and moan
We've not much time to wake the creep
Before the Landlord sends us home.

Ding dong, the 'Time's Up' bell
And lights down, far too dark
The Landlord starts his usual yell
Determined to make his mark.

But coming from the back of the place
To get served, it's too far...
But I'll smack that barman in the face
When I have crost the bar.