Coming home one Friday night,
admittedly, the worse for wear,
I saw Sir Malcolm Oversight
entering The Dog and Bear -
with a small whip in his hand.
He was riding Miss West Riding '91
and neither seemed to have a care -
not care a toss for anyone.
I took my story straight away
to every rag I thought might pay,
and long before the morning light
I'd riches promised out of sight.
They'd stake it out, The Dog and Bear,
and if it proved that I was right
beyond my dreams would be my share.
Alas, before such things could take their course
a new injunction was in force.
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
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