When you were my pocketed sweetheart 

You’d come on over and melt mellows by gas fires

Seeking a cure for ventriloquist knees 

as volcanoes Burnt through aspirations 

Let’s make tea And forget the chase 

of accredited trilby and thrills.

Bequest to dodge the draft that past through 

to your town and Country  

As we search for wax paper dreams 

the salted tracked past of a elephant 

taking lunch By new Scotland Yard 

Reading over books that Explain 

those Boundaries lines disputed 

Roped whole grain mustard seeds.