the cook and his sister

the cook and his sister once I was a poet blinded by the shiny pebbles, by the shore of purity and heart delight, but it was not to be although it was said about me in India, this man is really innocent My sister stood crying at the railway station in Montreal so, what are the tears for Are you not alive you silly girl; I have been dead for 44 years and you think you have forgotten can forget about real life, anyway I have never been in Montreal, especially now that I'm dead you should see the main street in Montreal it is the longest in a world with hundreds of shops and cafes, you can get Borch in seven variations, alas their sons became lawyers now it is Mcdonald's burgers and Indian curry houses What has that got to do with my worries I have never been here before and wants to go home to my sons, if they have not forgotten me; take me home brother! Shells fell from my eyes, and I stood naked as a statue in a graveyard with no footsteps in the snow, oh, you silly man when are you going back to what you knew, a drunk cook on sunken ships