The lodge in harsh flourescent light br is hung with tired pre-loved tinsel br and orange vinyl chairs sit side by side br in even rows and trestle tables laid br br with paper cloths are red and green br and chipped glass bowls hold chips br and nuts and brightly colored sweets br and cans of coke and lemonade br br The room fills up with suited men in ties br and wives in fancy frocks and pearls br The women gather awkwardly in groups br The men stand with their cans of beer br br A five-piece band plays swing br and rock-n roll with equal verve br The pianist young with Liberace flare br The others play in tune and laugh a lot br br At eight o'clock the supper is announced br The men and women form a tidy line, which br shuffles past the salads, chicken, ham br and cutlery like porcupines in jars br br And then the couples make their way, in br ones and twos toward the polished boards br George is blind. His wife, a large and loving br woman guides him deftly across the floor br br At nearly eighty four Bill Blood is slight br with light grey shoes and awful greasy hair br He holds his dumpy mottled little wife br with confidence and graceful easy flare br br The other couples shuffle back and forth br some in, some out of time, all comfortable br The band plays numbers everybody knows br and those still seated nod their drowsy heads br br At ten o'clock the raffle draw's announced br and patrons view their tickets blue and green br and happy winners rise and make their choice br from awful gifts gift-wrapped upon the table. br br It's late before we bid our fond farewells br to gentlemen who gather once a month br and share Masonic camaraderie br that happily inspired this little poem.