A Calypso beat.
A gypsy heart.
An ocean that keeps them apart.
Two thousand miles
he had to thread.
To earn his crust,
to bake his bread.

Baking under foreign skies.
He ran away from all the ties.
But tied he is,
forever more.
To memories of Inchicore.

Horses *******
by the stairs.
St Michaels flats,
and she was there.
Laughing,
and her wicked tongue.
A face like hers,
forever young.

But then that night,
returns to haunt,
every dream,
and every thought.
Her tears.
His blood,
upon the floor.
Upon that stairs in Inchicore.