YES-AN-ALBATROSS-LADY
She was the albatross around my neck.
I could not take much more.
The girl hammered her fists against my chest
so I pusher her. She fell to the floor.
There she lay down on the deck.
Her arms spread out like a cross,
the girl who was ever round my neck,
the lady albatross, yes the lady albatross.
Oh now she would be a martyr.
Of this I'd not hear the last.
She'd tell her friends for a starter,
and probably with an added twist.
Go tell the world I said, go tell all.
Hammer your fists against my chest
when you rise from the push and fall,
but this relationship is now laid to rest
(I would no longer argue the coin's toss
with she, a lady albatross).
YES-WILD-KITTY'S-LONESOME-
DEADWOOD-GRAVE
Kitty Le Roy met her end
in the Lone Star saloon.
In bed with a 'friend'
she danced to his tune.
Sam Hurley, gun in hand,
crept into the room.
Kitty the jig-dancer
was a well-known whore.
Sam, her furious romancer,
left two bodies on the floor.
Jealousy creeps like a cancer
whether sex is free or paid-for.
A SORT OF SANTA'S GROTTO ?
It was down in The Grotto bar,
beneath the Coatham Hotel
that the smoke from cigarettes
had a heady smell
cut-through by a jukebox David
like the Bowie Knife,
or by the voice of Bolan
upon a swan of white,
or of Bryan Ferry
with his seductive croon
that carried the young ladies
to Paris or the moon.
Yes down in The Grotto bar
some would call a dive -
the jazz club above
later to come alive -
we'd start out the evening
that ended with a wild jive.
LONG LOOK BACK
She looked for a tall dark handsome stranger,
why did I not say "I'm the one for you ?"
Perhaps it was just my modesty ?
The girl leapt aboard the bus number sixty-two.
Many a line of verse ran through my head,
yet to this poet's lips they went unknown.
I mouthed a quite goodbye to the beauty
who caught my very last poem home.
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