I've hauled my boyhood master -
old Mr Television down the stairs  

Now he blinks and stammers on the pavement  
even though he's not plugged in

But someone's tapping at my window -
who is she here - who leans into my room?

Long-limbed she is and dressed in green
as the mountain-ash in summer

And I climb into her arms beneath a single star - O
Mr Television - if you could see me now!