By 10th October 2007December 9th, 2019No Comments

The raindrops strike my windowpane
And rivulets run down,
Whilst I lay on my sick bed,
In pyjamas and a dressing gown.

I think the lives of my old muckers
Were rather like the rain,
Active, brief and passionate
– Free of all my pain.

They were fashioned on life’s anvil
And smote by the hammer of war.
I knew them for a moment,
But I’ve loved them evermore.

Just put me and my old muckers
In that tavern in the sky
And together we might vanquish
All the ills that make men cry.

Robert Jenkins

Author Robert Jenkins

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