With a pint in my hand, and
Summer back in the land,
It’s time for Stony Live, bright lights,
And a fringe of fun after the shrubs,
Longer days lead to warmer nights,
Finally we can set the world to rights,
What I love about Stony… is its pubs,

From the Cock to the Bull, to Old Georgie the fool,
A Duke, a Crown, a Fox and the Hound,
The Horse, its Plough and the Stables and Vaults,
So many choices it’s hard to decide,
Sure, some have their faults,
But I’d drink in each with pride,
Cider usually or ale, wine or single malts,

Whatever your poison they’re sure to provide,
A safe place, a smokescreen,
A haven or somewhere to hide,
Lose yourself in a barn for a dance or a day,
From folk on the green you’ll want to stray,
To a Summer Shakespeare serenade,
I’m always dour when the words fade,

Stony Stratford is more than a home,
More than its streets, river and fields,
It’s life, flesh, blood and bone,
It’s where I met my love and embraced the unknown,
Its people, pubs and a place to call our own.