VERDI CRIES
The man in 119 takes his tea all alone.
Mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries.
I m hearing opera through the door.
The souls of men and women
impassioned all.
Their voices climb and fall; battle trumpets call.
I fill the bath and climb inside
singing.
He will not touch their pastry but every day they bring him more.
Gold from the breakfast tray
I steal them all away and then go and eat them on the shore.
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand
sing of a lover s fate sealed by jealous hate then wash my hand in the sea.
With just three days more I d have just about learned the entire score to Aida.
Holidays must end as you know.
All is memory taken home with me: the opera
the stolen tea
the sand drawing
the verging sea
all years ago.
The man in 119 takes his tea all alone.
Mornings we all rise to wireless Verdi cries.
I m hearing opera through the door.
The souls of men and women
impassioned all.
Their voices climb and fall; battle trumpets call.
I fill the bath and climb inside
singing.
He will not touch their pastry but every day they bring him more.
Gold from the breakfast tray
I steal them all away and then go and eat them on the shore.
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand
sing of a lover s fate sealed by jealous hate then wash my hand in the sea.
With just three days more I d have just about learned the entire score to Aida.
Holidays must end as you know.
All is memory taken home with me: the opera
the stolen tea
the sand drawing
the verging sea
all years ago.
