late for the vine

Prisoner on the run

Are you running a very high temperature
Does your heart suddenly miss a rung?
Has your TV a full off-licence
Is your bed properly rung?

Well you might need a Mr. Fix it
He’s asleep in your toy-box now
Have you wiped the floor with ‘infectant
Are you secretly harbouring a cow?

Well I went into your garage
Looking for a bucket and spade
I opened up your toolbox
And I found the marquis de Sade

Have you got your life entitlement?
Does your lawn mower turn green in the sun?
Are you chasing the dwarf that came to life?
After drinking a bottle of rum

Did you make a spectacular announcement?
Did you travel from your lifeboat full of nuns?
Are seagulls in your hair?
Is anyone there?
Only a prisoner on the run

Late for the vine

One night I was hitched up to France
By a hungry heart
Hiking the melodious wood world land
Lit by a satellites car-moon
Late for the vine

Giants pulled up in a campervan
In big woolly claret jumper and picked me up
Out of the bubble of longing to be

Friend of the night
A rare as a rocket ship in teller pace
Appointed by the dark shadowy spirits of travel

They took me back to their hideout
On a October creature night

They were alternative student life
In the university of love and peace
I slept the night like a dormouse
In a den of welcome guest stranger
With unbelief and gratitude
And like a bird
I was on my way in the morning

The girl who sings in her clogs

The girl who sings in her clogs
Lives in the London smog
The buses all wait at the bus stop
Wondering which one she’ll chose

Her name is shanghai Dutch
She noisy when he goes away
When she returns to her place
She sneaks back quiet as a mouse

Shanghai has a boy
He’s as handsome as the eclipse of the moon
He tries to be in control of her
And his name is Frankie the groom

She also has a very best friend
Who knocks on the door- nightingale style
In the light of the hall, they start twittering
For she’s instantly invited inside

Hither and thither they go
To a world I do not know
To the willow pattern whip of the wind
Along the yellow river road

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