The travel back there
to get home and to share
the afternoon with my lady.

It was a hard day
a bread and dripping
or a lard day
but days like this come
and go

it won't be remembered,

but the afternoon will and the
evening spent under the light
of the moon will
because whatever kind of day
it turned out to be
she
will still be my lady

and
If I don't make it
beyond
three score and ten
I'll still count myself lucky.

Life is the taking from and giving to
who am I to say otherwise?

and each becomes their own
when I'm going home
wrapped in my thoughts
caught up in the dream
leaving Dean Street where
it belongs.

A fortune awaits me
and
she has the key,
but
we both know the
drill.