Oh yesterday, I t'ink it was, while cruisin' down the street, I met with Bill. "Hullo," he says, "let's give the girls a treat." We'd red bandanas round our necks 'n' our shrouds new rattled down,...
Night is on the downland, on the lonely moorland, On the hills where the wind goes over sheep-bitten turf, Where the bent grass beats upon the unplowed poorland And the pine-woods roar like the surf. ...