There are no sad men in the bar

They come all with a purpose

Hunkered over pints of their days hard work

Listening and humming along to music their wives at home would never approve

No escaping reality...

We all know this is real and a woodstove warms the heart as well as a whiskey warms the belly

When our night ends we march home and know that we are men there and there is no need to prove it