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Aquarius Buried Treasure Callanish S T O N E D Q U A R T Z McMac Pardon? Tattoo Camera Obscura High Creagan The West Highlander Pot Of Gold StarVoyagers Deep Breath Vulpes Vulgaris Richard |
H.M.S. Belfast Firing Range Royal Visit Crisp and Even Elizabeth Great Court S.T. Barnabas Runaway Vengence Weapon No 1 Water Trough Woolwich Ferry CloudBusting Segas Showing My Age 39 Rue Grande Nigel Knows Disco Not Cricket It Is Better Mind How You Go No Flowers Ashes to Ashes R.I.P. Feminist |
When I was ten weeks old Life was one long dream, sleeping warm and comfy In blue moonglow gleam. Life was one long holiday Sleeping warm and deep, Snuggling down in furry fleece, Smooth in silk so steep. Sleeping curved and quiet With fingers curled and warm, sleeping deep, contented, sheltered from the storm. In blue moonglow gleam The midnight rustle of change, And later, loving arms around, With sound and taste so strange. When I was ten weeds old No thought of stress or strain, No thought of leaving land mass, No thought of wind and rain. Only comfort of velvet breast, Closeness of cradling hands, warmth of love, soothing words, And strength of family bands. When I was ten weeds old Life was one long dream, Sleeping warm and comfy At edge of lifts wide stream. SEPTEMBER 1985 |