for PATTAYA TRADER 142 (A)

BE-SURE-TO-CAST-MY-ASHES-
TO-THE-BREEZE-THEN-BLOWING
You can dance on my grave
when I am gone,
when I'm deathly cold
as the wintry pond
that is now a mirror
for the preening-swan.
You can dance on my grave,
I will not be there.
I've asked that my ashes
dance in the windy air.

DOCKSIDE-SIREN
His name was Tommy Taylor.
He went to sea as a sailor.
"Hi, they call me Joy.
I just love a sailor-boy,"
sang out a husky-voice.
Since he was hard-up for choice
they fumbled in the dark,
a right old Navy lark.
If the pair had been spied
Tommy Taylor should have died.
You guessed it all along,
no girl had sung the song !

A-ROSE-ROUNDED-DOOR
I'm not for settling down.
Did that when much too young.
I want to get about
and have singular fun.
Won't be glib with you.
I will not be obscure.
I don't want a cottage
with roses round the door
(until I reach the age
of the Beatles 'Sixty-four').


 A-SANDSHIFT-SAMUEL
There on the shifting sand
ancient Samuel makes his home.
Like a biblical prophet,
he squats down by the foam.
Tangled as seaweed his long-hair,
only the beach does he comb.

I'LL BE BEGGARED
There are beggars everywhere
and do I have the money to spare?
Were I to give to everyone
a beggar myself I might become !

A-SURE-SHOOTING-CALAMITY
She's a Crackshot Annie
and a Calamity Jane.
But I'm not talking bullets.
I'm talking about cocaine.
Speak of the Wild West
and I'll give you a name:
Calamity Jane, Calamity Jane.

Now what's the girl up to?
What's that in her vein?
Want to be a Wild West hero?
Then just battle with the pain
and throw away the needle
Calamity Jane, Calamity Jane.

NOISOME-NEWGATE-NUISANCES
You could bribe the prison-guard
to make your last hours less hard.
He'd bring you a mug of beer.
This you could down
in the hope that you'd drown
the haunting feeling of fear,
where the shadows stood tall
over one and all,
the gallows just beyond
their very last nightfall.

There'd be dancing and singing,
and to prison-bars clinging,
lost on the drunken regaling
or the banging of a head
on the prison-wall instead
or the lying-down-low and wailing,
where the shadows stood tall
over one and all,
the gallows just beyond
their very last nightfall.

But the gentry would voice
they were sick of the noise
that came from this beggarly lot.
Only happy that the din
would end with the swing
that followed the hangman's knot,
where the gallows stood tall
over one and all
and the shadows vanished
with the crimson morning's call.

A-TROLL-GUARDED-TREASURE
Here on these hills
don't you go loll
and make an enemy
of the hillside troll.
A witch or a warlock
can make it clear:
put a spell on yourself
and disappear.
There are giant trolls
and there are pygmy-sized.
Now you've their measure
let it be no surprise
that they guard a treasure
that dazzles the eyes.
What the treasure
you may very-well ask.
The sun is the gold
in which they bask.
Emeralds the leaves
of grass and trees.
Rubies the red-berries
about such hills as these;
yes rubies the wild-berries
around such hills as these.