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.