It's a song as long as life, - a lament
Of blue moons and lowlife.
Paris like iron Pyrite,
A face in a pub in Fyfe.
...
A Poet's Song
It's a song as long as life, - a lament
Of blue moons and lowlife.
Paris like iron Pyrite,
A face in a pub in Fyfe.
Fyfe at midnight, tongues fighting, - sex at noon,
Sixteen nuns debating
A cab that's fit for a king,
Stilettoes and sad lighting.
Sad lighting, dogs still at-it, - a schooner,
Boys skinning a rabbit,
A scouse king wasting his wit,
And a hobo's bad habit.
A sad habit with Rita, - a Harley
Whirling towards Bala,
A bride in her Wonderbra;
Killings and Pepsi Cola.
Cola, Ramona and more, - a crazy
Cruiser around Bangor,
A sacked and legless actor,
My ship on a lonesome shore.
A shore where four had a fight - over Sue,
Every sound at midnight,
Ice coolers in the sky-light,
A lone knave crying all night.
All night it's right and it's wrong, - it's evil,
It's heaven. From Armstrong
To Monserrat and Datong,
It's all in a poet's song.