Brown’s Hotel in the pretty coastal village of Laugharne
in south-west Wales is where Dylan Thomas used to drink,
and according to local legend, eavesdrop on bar-room conversations
to provide lines and characters for Under Milk Wood.
Let us imagine the snug on a cold winter’s night
as the landlord greets one of his regulars…
‘Well, if it isn’t Dai the Fish. Had a good day, boyo?’
‘Aye, I’ve been out on the sloeblack, slow, black, crow black
fishingboat-bobbing sea, and I’ve got a thirst like a dredger
so give me a pint of stout will you. Quiet in here tonight?’
‘Aye, you can hear the houses sleeping in the streets,
in the slow deep salt and silent black, bandaged night.
That will be one shilling and fourpence.’
‘I see Dylan the Eavesdrop is up to his old tricks,
pretending to be so busy writing poems he can’t hear us.
Watch this. Good evening, Mr Thomas, Caitlin in London is she?’
‘Yes, Dai, she’ll be back home tomorrow.’
‘I bet you can’t wait, eh? Whacking-thighed and piping hot,
thunderbolt-brassed and barnacle-breasted,
flailing up the cockles with eyes like blowlamps
and scooping low over her lonely hotwaterbottled body.’
‘That’s right, Dai, yes.
Er… “Barnacle-breasted” – that’s one word, is it?’