Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category
There’s a race of men that don’t fit in,
A race that can’t stay still;
So they break the hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the world at will.
They range the field and they rove the flood,
And they climb the mountain’s crest;
Theirs is the curse of the gypsy blood,
And they don’t know how to rest.
When you’re lost in the wild and scared as a child.
And death looks you bang in the eye.
And you sore as a boil. It’s according to Hoyle.
To cock your revolver… and die.
But the code of the man says, “Fight all you can”.
And self dissolution is bared.
In hunger and woe, oh it’s easy to blow.
It’s the hell served for breakfast that’s hard.