The legend lives on from Clarendon on down
In the sketchy bar they call Summers
The Red Room it is said never gives up her dead
Just sitting back there is a bummer
With a load of empty beers
There were plenty of fears
The server would never return
Though good customers are few
The complaints still ring true
Someone should be there to serve them
If the Red Room is open
Someone is always hopin'
To get one more brew
It may be a slow news day
But if its a Tuesday
Have someone working the bar
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