Conquerors by Henry Treece |
ConquerorsBy sundown we came to a hidden villageWhere all the air was stillAnd no sound met our tired ears, saveFor the sorry drip of rain from blackened treesAnd the melancholy song of swinging gates...
Posted by on Fri, 18 May 2007 08:10:00 GMT |
Not Waving But Drowning |
Not Waving But Drowning Nobody heard him, the dead man,But still he lay moaning:I was much further out than you thoughtAnd not waving but drowning.Poor chap, he always loved larkingAnd now he's deadI...
Posted by on Fri, 02 Mar 2007 04:10:00 GMT |
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone |
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coff...
Posted by on Tue, 06 Feb 2007 03:01:00 GMT |
