This is the morning
All of a muddle
All getting ready
To step into puddles
And catch the gravy trains
Down there in London
On the bus
On the tube
Rides in tunnels going nowhere
Trains returning back home again
This is just a little while later
The garden gate swings open
Scented roses, loud and proud
Stand out, without shrouds
In the full view of the meadow
Back here in Lincoln
In the cathedral, feet without shoes
Verses whispered
Songs unsung
Undone by rhythms and blues
This is the coffee time
Scones and jam and cake
Words fall over, words stand by
Jake, please
Rake those fake leaves away
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