It was around abouts ten in the way back of when and the old town had closed for the night,
down in the back alleys where cats made their allies and sparrows lay dying, were oldsters still trying to capture their dreams,
screams and curses, drunken verses floated off in the moonless sky and sometime back then in the way of it when I was around abouts ten years of age,
a new page was written the night I was bitten by the spiders who lived in my brain.

Bats carried trains for the marriage, insane as it was to become and the Sun shed no tears until many years later.

A captain stood in uniform, gold braid, afraid to cast off and the quay came alive with the jostling of time and the ships of the line looked so Constable,
comfortable as it is to reminisce, I've got business to do with the crew who buy tin plate for China and carved opal from the fields of Coober Pedy.

A diner in town open up and for one half of a crown they serve mutton with ale, we go there to eat and then somewhere around abouts ten we sail.

Ten always looms in the memory rooms where I get trapped, but by and large for a very small man I can cope.
I have faith in the faith I can hope for a berth on a freighter that's bound for the Cape and the cape that I wear to keep the weather at bay is just another way that the spiders inside me keep dry and quite clearly on a moonless night
it's got to be the right thing to do.