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The according to well Me
When you were born
The king boys were in the hospital
trying to sell
dodgy perfumes
All three of them
Some bastard up in the hills
had a torch on the whole night
St Ables accident and emergency
No rooms available
I totally understood kissing your friend
The amateur magician stuff was great
Our fishing trips
We always came back with a haul
but then again most of that clinked
Some of the table legs were sheer artistry
I turned your newborn head towards
the night sky
This is yours my son
Copyright ©
Christopher Quigley
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