I-‘m Going To Spin You A Yarn
With A Miasma Of Squalor
Death, Decay And A Girl From Iran
Who I Met For Less Than A Dollar
She Was Born With A Gift Of Laughter
And A Sense That The World Was Crazy
I Saw She Was Quite The Grafter
And This Her Patrimony
In A Disused Factory
Run By A Character; Delvin The Wizard
A Brothel Stood Most Memorably
Owned By The Mob Of Hamstead
She Would Pout And Pose On A Union Jack
Tell Tale Tales Of City Rent Boys
Who-‘d Sprinkle On Cornflake; Crack
But There-‘s Something About Her Poise
Her Vagabond Scraf, Guttersnipe Appeals
Made Me A Slave To Her High Heels
We, Two Dandies With Dirty Fingernails
Became Spivs And Dodged Time In Jails
She Weren-‘t Just A Junkie Bag Snatcher
We Lived Private Lives With Public Antics
Her Vast Ambition; Like Lady Thatcher
Was Nothing More Than -Ë—up The Bracket-‘
We Lived A Scene From A Neo- Dickensian
Netherworld; Of Rogues And Romances
And In An Anarchist Squat Called Albion
We Made Love Like Princes
And Left At Her Revolving Door
Were Illusions Of Grandeur
The Red-Blood Walls Reek
Of A Nicotine Boutique
The Onyx Leather Sofas Tattered
Where For A Dollar She-‘d Been Battered
Magic And Mayhem An Equal Diet
Her Living Room Started Many A Riot
I-‘d Show Her Sherlock Holmes
She-‘d Show Me How To Skin-Up
I Was Drunk On Her Love Syndrome
She-‘d Drink A Gin In Tea-Cup
After An Interval, Two Rum And Cokes
‘I Can’t See Straight, ‘ She Jokes
-Å—tickle Me Up Me Nighty
And Take Me Back To Blighty.-
The Camaraderie The Filthiness
A Kitchen-Sink-Drama
Like Robin Asquith-‘s Naughtiness
Our Bonhomie A New Panorama
Her Vision Of Blake And Gadflies
Prove There-‘s A Niche For Savage Hedonism
Knights And Knaves May Never Materialise
But We-‘ll Continue Head-On-Winsome
My Mind-‘s Psychedelic Imagery
Wants To Take Your DerriƒÂ¨re
Away From All This Reality
Waterloo To Wherever You Dare
They Branded Me The Pied Viper Of Hackney
She Was Influenced By My Anarchy
What A Shame She Slipped In The Rain
Poor Dancing Girl Won-‘t Dance Again