O realmsman of the sacred spheres, meet me by the Hallow Bench at the Violet Hour and complete the quaking.

Reveal anew, a landlord true,

to light the hearth and fill the glasses in the moon underwater. The moon underwater. Oh, well, that's that done, dear. Yes, the mirror of sorrow is shining, and the brasses have begun to glow. The firelight has

begun its dance in the cut glass. Can you hear the little thunders in the pipes and pumps? Oh,

the time has come. And I think I hear a footstep on the cobbles. Ah, good swain, high barman, fresh

captain cross the threshold of oak. So it is you. Have you come to sweep the grate of this

bold fire?

I have.

I shall ask the sacred question, and you must provide the response of the ages.

Proceed.

Through the realms you come.

To the moon underwater.

How dost thou reveal thy sin and you are fresh again it is so oh welcome to the new landlord of the moon underwater robbie knox tell me what's it like to be the new landlord of the

moon underwater? What are your feelings? What are your senses? What are your sensations?

Emotional, honored, happy. Those are three words. Very excited. Well, you are the custodian

of a sacred right, a sacred position and a sacred

pub, and through your hands, new traditions will flow, old traditions will be maintained,

and the sort of happy presence and the happy absence of all things, and of course the constant

revealings, will be on your lap, in your mind, your heart, and in thy visions of thine own

sen. I could not have put it better myself. You've taken the words right out of my mouth

there, exactly what I was going to say. And of course, I mean, language changes, vocabulary changes. You, I'm sure, will be bringing your own idioms, your own idelects to the role.

What's your landlordship going to be like? What's the sort of vibe for want of a worse word?

...