(a poem by Andy Gregory)

A ship without it's captain is like a yaught without a sail.
a break he needs from chanting through sweaty face that's pale.

A lonely dreamer crying as he tries to sleep at night.
his children slumber softly as there's no way they will fight.

A mystery is a building from the chasm of his mind.
will the deamons come a hunting to pay him back in kind.

Does his soul rest at peace as the fires burn the earth.
Does he leave the carpet high with dust and lie for all he's worth.

As he sits beside the ocean does he ever seem to see if the ocean that he looks upon shows blood and death to be.

As the passage of his time soon ends will he smile unto himself.
Will he sleep as baby in his bed with wallet full of wealth.

Has he tricked the minds of many to rally to his cause.
has he burned the few remaining bridges left throughout his wars.

Will he think of you at sunrise as the warrior forms as one.
Will he still be smiling softly when that day of blood is done.

Does he feel the deepest sadness of a mother left alone.
When his tan is golden brown from rest- will he then come home.

Does it matter then this ship adrift Britain Proud and True.
I swear to god it does to me- does it mean the same to you.
Andy Gregory.
Do you do Bar Mitzvah's and weddings?
Brittania drifts at sea? it is alongside in Leith, you crazy foo'..

There was a young lady from Kew
Who said as the Bishop withdrew
The Vicar is quicker
And slicker
And thicker
And three inches longer than you!
The poet's lines are easy to mock
It is because the man's a cock.

I'm still waiting to hear back from Roger McGough

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