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.