A well pressed suit, oh Lord
Close cropped slicked back hair
A bicycle with trouser clips
Memories of service in the Second World War
I thought I saw you today in Lincolnshire
For certain, but a while ago, for the both of us
I also saw you heading for the Post Office
In deepest Devon
Your wife I will now surmise
Passed this way backalong
Dusted off her apron, polished the dresser
And shone the grandchild’s shoes
The Maserati and Isuzu Impreza
Roar on by with the throttles to the floor
Passed the stockings and the trousers
Faster than the well groomed hair
I’m not a working man
Nor are the rest of them
I think that one day I can
Then I hear the news
The bicycles of Tiananmen Square
The flashing flesh of youth
I wondered
If, oh no Lord, were you there?
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