THE BLACK HORSE & RAINBOW

In 1890, a drayman ran his brewery cart down Berry Street when a rainbow set down at the doorway of twenty-three.

He thought of the old tale, turned his black dray horse off the route, and went in.

There was no pot of gold.

There was a fire in the grate, a pie warming in the oven, a landlord who pulled a proper pint, and a place at the bar without having to ask. His horse was watered. His coat was hung. Before his first pint was done, someone had pulled him a second.

He came back the next night. And the one after that. Eventually he stayed.

The horse is still over the door.
The rainbow with him.
The welcome the same.

JOIN OUR MAILING LIST