Chimes the bells are tolling in outward rhymes
cold dawn fleet in around airing pitiless vapor
my fore-runners are calling in coastal whispers
the clarion blows and beats for my return to shores
Mother I am sorry I never found the golden fleece
nuggets I dug from dawn to dusk in heat and icy wake
were purloined by the buccaneers of the eastern night
Father I am sorry the sweat of my brow washed away
only to earn me a tag avaricious in self seeking alleys
In glorious days I walked the straight and narrow
bought neither shame or sorrow to the ingrained light
But in ways unknown worthy deeds became a crime
and the hays baled in sunshine were turn to mush
a pure hearts love was taken and distilled into hock
to be guzzled and spat out like vinegar at a gypsy fair
In fairways wrought with tender care and toil genuine
now littered thorns and hemlock boughs overhanging
the nightingale left bereft of voice while wild dogs bark
and marauders malice inclined fill jugs of lost-heads brew
Pray forgive me I'm unhitching the tent and pulling plugs
I have song my songs but the carnival has changed in mist
shadows lurks in cauldrons smoke laden incantations rings
I see afar the spirits from my youths and hopeful times
when sun held a thousand dreams and a heart of gold shone
I will look again for days of tomorrow's sun and warm embraces
the chillies  will fire my blood in the footsteps of my forebears
I am thankful for what I am left with and all I have learnt
and to those few who had grace in graceless climate of ides