Jan 93*


And patience had taken his anger
from the care of the gentlest of webbs
and placed it full force in the sunlight
where it festered and flew from his head

Tie down me a word of behaviour
who's angles are right to the moon
and fly by that star til the morning
has turned our old sun past the noon

And bright down below shout the warriors
with their solar sheets to the wind
I am the maid of the Marrion (Merry Men)
I am the Robin that hoods
I am the cheek of the devil
I am the tear of the Christ
I am the fool will not listen
I am the shame and the pride