Your modern pub is shiny plastic
It’s atmosphere is something drastic
Production line, all alike
Substance there will take a hike
Well I know a place not too far
With warmer people behind the bar
Characters there by the spadefull
Their wit and craic will make you grateful
What is this place that earns its worth?
It goes by the name of the mighty Turf
Every human there you’ll find
Are examples of REAL humankind
Music, laughter and real good ale
The kind of thing where plastic pubs fail
Tired? Weary? Feeling down?
The Turf is the jewel in Consett’s crown
Risen from the ashes with Juliette and Ste
You’ll always be in top company
So if you’re down and craving mirth
Get yourself to the Turf
In an age where reality is unclear
Get yourself there for a beer
Now im rambling
I’ve got to go
The Mighty Turf
I love you so…

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