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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 |
If I was certified dead With a few weeks to live, Warm and secure, cared for By ladies of the Lamp who give Such love and sweet devotion, Whose tender hands caress And cross in giving absolution, Would you come to see me And say, please don't rise, Hold my hand in yours so cool, look me in the eyes And ask, how are you, I hope you feel quite fit. Fine, yes, thank you, Would you like to sit And talk and senile awhile. You'd nod and crinkle mouth, Knees together, dressed in style. I'd pass the cup, Spoon jangling with my heart beat, Little finger in honour curled, Battenburg a special treat. Animated talking hands, Eyes sparkling all the time, Gentle thoughts, gentle words, Till late the hours chime. This special interlude, Happiness would leave me never, And, when the limousine had gone, I would glow forever. THE PRINCESS OF WALES |