Don - Or Ducky

Don, not the one on the trombone, Though you could spin a ball Cool as him. The big stone Where we sit watching the rain fall Is it still there? I need A rock stronger than that one, When the gold leaves become weed Wet and smudgy as the homehill pond Is that where they found the Dragon Dead? Our days have changed nothing But we are changed. The bond For the old gang is stil sweet in My heart, Kenly, Juksweet, Young, Gary, Comfy, Buffat with the spin On facts only your lung Could breathe. Dave and I are here But I never see him, I think Of V and Lorna there, In that little world that even more we shrink By travelling to bigger loneliness, and countries And no one understand. How I want To come back with better stories Than before, and hear you laugh for free In the sand bed theatre of life's comedy. I would not measure friendship by our bond today Yet though its love is guinep stain All that memory of Dredge, and the pounding rain We built this with our hands, it will not go away.