A Lonely Yorkshireman

The contradicting ramblings of a sodding old fool


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In the midst of my despair,
when darkest dawn arose
a hand so small and fair,
a girl with Irish hair,
sweet angel of the west, said:
‘Lets go buy some clothes.’

I felt it in my heart,
a feeling I’d forgot,
from dark & desperate place
came a smile upon my face.

She loves me true, she loves me not.
How would I know, when I’m forgot.

Her eyes go here, her eyes go there,
as long as hands go nowhere else
I’ll be a happy man my dear.

Now don’t you fear
I’m not so bad.
You’ll see when finally
that Simon lad comes back to you
and let’s you know
if Yorkshire is
where you will go.

For now let time play fickle hand.
I’ll wait here in this rainy land
for you and me and what will be.

Hopefully… eternity.


Written by lonelyyorkshireman

April 18, 2012 at 8:32 AM

Posted in Poetry

Tagged with , , , , , , , ,

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