At least  I would be a poet if not you’re eyes i see ,
Or dance in the twilight when you haven’t given you’re heart to me .

Yet only in darkness do I see you where there is no twinkling fire light ?

The Mail coach approaches don’t let it be late ,
out of the darkness two minutes to wait ,
mail for the court ,
mail for the King ,
the fear of God awaits for those when the carriage runs late ,
for bread and mutton awaits in the morning .


A smile for summer for it has nearly passed,
Oh please don’t judge me for what far tales I tell ,
or if my pen is not swift ?
For the girls in the garden when the roses were in bloom ,
a debt of blood flowed from their veins into the pale light of the moon.
sorrow for a tin of soap .
For in the end in church pews lies ,
can ever cleanse our minds ,
or what we think and do ?

The weary traveller who enquiries at you,re door at night
requires you’re bed ,
and meat soup and broth .
Look,,


the watcher looks ever on ,
casts his lot into the fire ,
scroll after scroll on parchments of peace  ,
day after day.
For all the roses and tins the mail coach waits and waits until ,
It’s too late and our souls find eternal flame cast out into hell .

A smile for summer now Autumn is near and darkness its mistress
Scuttles ever near .
Spare a thought for the silver moon and the light it shines when darkness creeps
on it only light is found it’s silver gown ..
For where truth and love abound man shall fill their buckets and quench its flame ,
and Jesus Christ shall reign again .