Each side of the ginnel, barbarous and cruel
Iron railings reaching up to spikes,
And down below, one side, a black stream
Gurgling between the roots of rain-slimed trees.
Goodnight Fred! Goodnight Joe!
This was a village all knowing all,
This the blessed hour when one-legged men
Say “bye-bye” and “won’t be long”.
And lurch like buoys in a choppy sea
To the pub, and forget their loves
who left alone, rearrange the ornaments
Of their minds, careful not to let them fall.