Darlings are you ready for the long winter's fall ?
said the lady in her parlour
said the butler in the hall.
Is there time for another ?
said the drunkard in his sleep.
said the little child. What's done
the Lord can keep.
And the vicar stands a-praying
And the television dies
as the white dot flickers and is gone
and no-one stops to cry.
The big jet rumbles over runway miles
that scar the patchwork green
where slick tycoons and rich buffoons
have opened up the seam
of golden nights and...
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