If there was a sword that cut the knot
I never got the joke

never smoked a cigarillo or
blew blue rings that curled like arms
around a girl I knew.

Took some different winding track which
took me back through vocal chords
Christmastime and leaping Lords
and apples in the stockings hanging
from the
mantlepiece.

and when the black cat got my tongue
it made me swear,
not much fun when dad found out
a clout and bed
no supper,
though fed up,
how strange.

That merry dance down the river banks
splashing through the stepping stones.

What now?

creaking bones that tell the tales
of ships that sailed
of dockyard nights and when
Northern lights shone in my eyes
to me it was no great surprise
I loved it all.