The sky is yellowy pink but tinged with grey
The sun is gone and we feel stark dismay
We can’t meet friends in person any more
Only shout as we stand by the door

I think the source of Covid  is just cash
Money laundered less, the notes unwashed
The coins are black as coal in devil’s  claws
Don’t leave  the tip that kills , nor money gnaw

I used to suck a shilling while I worked
I  tapped my  fingers  where it would not hurt
But now the sight of pounds makes   me feel sick
Never use old notes nor lovers lick 

Throw your money into a black hole
You may starve but this will save your soul

Today is yellow ochre,tinged with grey
Not much contrast from the soft silk sky
No birds nor any brightness, light won’t play

The ones who act so manic are not gay
If there is no truth, there are no lies
Today is yellow ochre, languid, grey

In the sun on Sutton Bank we lay
My acts outcry, my grief I shall defy
No birds nor any life. the light n’t play

Who is born a hunter.who the prey?
The lion has lost the unicorn nearby
Today is yellow ochre, damped to grey

I think of brexit, oh the blush,shame
The spirits flatten;rise up,do not die
No birds nor any life, the light won’t play

I wonder what the loss is or the gain
I wish we were in Suffolk by the Bly
Today is yellow ochre, soon to grey
No birds, no life ,I’m anguished, would you stay?

Creeds have danger, action is what counts
Love your neighbour subtly and with care
Tell the truth in suitable amounts
Good deeds are done in secret,God’s about
But views of him are hidden and are rare
Creeds are minor, action is what counts
Do not offend nor patronise nor doubt.
The beggars in the doorway room nowhere
Tell the truth in suitable amounts
Live a secret life but sing and shout
Write a letter clear and tinged with flair
Creeds are minor, action is what counts
Hunt no beast,admire the mad March hare
Tell the truth in suitable amounts
.f you meet a stranger, do not stare
If you meet an angel be prepared
Creeds have danger, action is what counts
Tell the truth in suitable amounts