The Old Station, Bolton Road.

Went to the restaurant for a meal and a drink,

Open the doors, and my eyes did blink.

Italian style in food and decor,

Peroni and pasta for you to pay for.

On Bolton Road, the old Station Hotel.

The A666 or the road to Hell.

Smokers outside puffing away,

Stubbing their butts in a dirty ashtray.

Punters sitting at the bar,

Ordering cocktails from an old fruit Jar.

Fake tan, fake boobs, wannabe and wag,

Hoping the next footballer to tag.

Waiters’ inside wear black and white,

Paper and pen to get your order right.

A starter, a main with veg on the side,

VIP area is the Groom and the Bride.

A pudding with cream, cheese on a plate.

Coffee or tea and a few after eight.

You get your bill you scratch your head,

This is the part that you dread.