It’s behind the coffee...
That sits on a shelf-
I’ve been there in person
I’ve seen it myself!
They just walk around it
Like nobody cares,
Ignoring those dark and mysterious stairs
To the dungeon.

And so, while I linger here
Sipping my tea,
I can’t help but ponder
What reason there’d be
For a sweet, small cafe
So pleasant and charming
To have as it’s centerpiece,
Dark and alarming,
A portal that leads
To a dungeon!

I suppose it’d come in handy if
A patron thought his bill to stiff,
Or a cheapskate who leaves
A tip too small,
Or screaming children
And that’s not all-
I’ll bet that’s even where they choose
To toss those who enter
Without shirt or shoes,
And clumsy kids who spill their milk
They lock them and all
Their detestable ilk
In the dungeon!

Take heed,
All you artists of open mic-
Choose only the pieces
You think folks will like.
Carefully consider your hits and your misses
‘Cause here they don’t bother
With boos and hisses-
At the Conway Cafe
They’ll just show you the way
To the dungeon!