(The Old Bull is a now ex-landmark-pub of Didsbury, Manchester, England, where I was born, and from where my family emigrated to Aus.)

Poem 58 of 230, walkaboutsverse.741.com: THE OLD BULL

Walked along Fog Lane,
    Looked at the park,
Stopped in the Old Bull
    And had a hark,
While eating lunch,
    On how at dark,
Many years before,
    My father's lark,
There, was games of darts -
    I'd filled an arc.