Red’s Bar & Grill

On a cold winters evening in a car bound for nowhere,
I rode with the friend; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin out the window at the darkness
til boredom overtook us, and we decided on a drink.
He said, friend, I’ve made a life out of sipping at other peoples places,
And knowing what they were craving by the way they held their glass.
So if you don’t mind my saying, I can see you’re out of patients.
How bout a taste of whiskey and I’ll even buy you a beer.
So we turned to Red’s tavern and were handed a bottle.
After one big swallow he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
Just as the night got deathly quiet, the Joe Mack Band came into sight.
Joe said, if you’re gonna play the guitar, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right.
Now every Unilocaler knows that the secret to survivin
Is knowin what to order and knowing where to keep.
Cause every plates a winner and every plates a loser,
And the best that you can hope for is to dine in delight.
So we finished up our drinks, and turned back towards Boston proper.
But, not before Joe crushed out his cigarette and faded into Black.
And somewhere in the darkness us Unilocalers, we broke even.
But in his final words I found a place that I could keep.
Red’s is a small working class, no-​frills bar. The service was decent and the patrons were hospitable. It reminded me of a bar you’d find in an old coal town back in the 70’s. That being said, we had a good time. There’s a stage, a pool table and they have a kitchen. The night we went they put out a free spread of deli meats and breads. Red’s is the type of place I could take my grandfather to. We’d have a good time because he’d certainly run into another veteran of a foreign war and I’d sit back in awe of a great generation.

VERY dumpy biker bar.

Dumpy biker bar.