ITS 1917 IN SURREY AND

 FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOPS TO THE LOWLAND SEAS NEW LINES ARE DRAWN IN CASUALTIES

It’s been nice but I can not stay
I’ve seen what the papers say
Reminds me of what Iago said
And part of it stuck in my head
Hey slacker some men in khaki cry
It’s the green eyed monsters call to die
But it mocks the meat on which it feeds 
As the more it takes the more it needs

And at Madame Lind’s the lights are on
The clink of Glass and pianola song 
I can still hear as I reach my door 
Where a letter looms on the hallway floor

Now I was nearly forty one
when I appealed for my exemption 
For domestic hardship would ensue 
If I should limp round the colours too
Cause rheumatic fever did for me
When I was young my stick you see
So to aid the prosecution of the war 
In a civil role I’d help much more

And mechanically it carries on 
The ticking clock goes on and on 
Below the mantle piece supine on my knees
The fires lit with obituaries 

And like the steam from the six forty six
I was compelled into a new office
Where the letters swam in elusive shoals
I cast my net of coherent wholes
And the thief of time had been and gone
when the knot i tied it came undone
And that’s when I began to roam 
Beneath starlight and hedgerow 
I made my home

And I woke with the feathered songsters song 
And in my bones I felt the sunlight shone
Touched by the beauty of life and its brevity 
From small mindedness momentarily 

I took my, I took my, I took my , I took my      leave

Clink of Glass (Acoustic)

Story telling rooted in a sense of place and time.

Clink of Glass (Acoustic)

Wergulu Blue