And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter ---
in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
radios
And there sits she --- no bed, no bread, no butter ---
on a double yellow line --- where she can park anytime
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer ---
some only son's mother Baker Street casualty
Oh, Mr Policeman --- blue shirt ballet master
Feet in sticking plaster ---
move the old lady on
Strange pas-de-deux ---
his Romeo to her Juliet
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the
crowded emptiness
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel ---
I'll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you
bloody will!
No do-good over kill We must teach them
to be still more independent