As the Scottish bard Robert Burns must have known well (“My muse! Guid auld Scotch drink! . . . Inspire me, till I lisp an wink”), few things are more intoxicating than the pairing of poetry and a good pint. To name a pub after a two-hundred-year-old pastoral ode to serenity, then, seems like a natural move—especially if that pub, housed in a former smoke shop and owned by three Irishmen (proprietors of the Wren and the Penrose), unabashedly exalts in the riparian.
Aries: an oatmeal cookie dipped in sweet tea
Taurus: making perfume from flowers and running bare feet
Gemini: you talked like a hurricane and smelled like the sea
Cancer: a bunch of balloons floating upwards, endlessly.
Leo: you are my rock, the steady boat docked at the harbour
Virgo: i don’t understand myself, there’s just too much armour
Libra: i remember a wine stained dress and a long taxi ride home
Scorpio: i think of scottish highlands and sweet honeycombs
Sagittarius: words are not enough to describe all that you are
Capricorn: i never understood you, you’re a puzzle i can’t solve
Aquarius: you hold entire universes, you know how to break hearts
Pisces: you are an ever-changing sunset, a true piece of art.