The Jailhouse
By Stephen Jones
In the slow, sleepy Welsh town,
Lies the empty shell of a night club,
The sad sight of its rotting carcass always gets me down,
For this place was once an entertainment hub.
The Jailhouse was the place to be,
If you wanted to drink and dance,
If you liked to sing, there was karaoke,
And the dance floor was often the start of a romance.
It had different names over the years,
Zenon, The Moonraker and Tom Peppers,
Now its somber sight evokes tears,
A tall, metal fence greets its stairs.
But in its heyday, amongst the disco lights, party-goers and smart phones,
You could hear the dulcet tones of Roger Jones.
Stephen Jones
23/11/2023
