Come hither, Spring Frost, bejule the lawns of my mind.

Cool the April sun, lest it bleach my memory sand white.

Grains of time, sense of the past ghosts and guesses. Do not go. Do not go.

Do not go high up toward those unreachable vapors. Stay a while in the moon underwater.

The Oh, welcome, welcome one and all, one and alline take seat take bench and pew here at the

moon underwater where you will be be calmed be pinted and beloved I am John Robbins

landlord of the moon underwater the only I believe the only tavern in the

correct realm that reveals itself in alley, in dusk, in starlight, on more cliff face and glen.

Here we invite guests of ours to create their dream pub to furnish it, to

inhabit it. But I am just one half of the spectral staff here at the Moon underwater,

and opposite me is my comrade, my brother in arms, my brother in pints, my uncle in pubs, my niece in glasses.

It's the lovely Robin Allender. Hello, Robin.

Hi, John. How are you today?

I'm good. Have you completed your lord vigils?

Yes, what's that just looking at the surface of the bar?

Well, it's whatever you interpret it to be, but it's sort of the morning canonical observations.

Breakfast, making breakfast.

Yeah, it's sort of like a sort of a breakfast, but sort of a spiritual breakfast.

A spiritual breakfast, whether your prayers are the beans and your sausages that kind of is the truth?

And I think the eggs are the Holy Ghost, because they are at all times scrambled, poached and

boiled.

That's very true, actually. What is an egg?

...