Its A Kind of little garden shed
Where many an uncouth word is said
A sort place you would hear no din
A holy bin to dump your sin
...
Oh for the honeyed breath of St Annes air
Adorned by a thousand blossoms sweet
The breath that makes my urban girl more fair
And aids the ailing sick in hopes retreat
...
The Confession Box
Its A Kind of little garden shed
Where many an uncouth word is said
A sort place you would hear no din
A holy bin to dump your sin
Into the waters his fingers dipped
To pray from memories hasty script
Again he dabbles in a watery bowl
And leaves a freeman of his soul