I’m Going To Spin You A Yarn
With A Miasma Of Squalor
Death, Decay And A Girl From Iran
Who I Met For Less Than A Dollar

She Was Born With A Gift Of Laughter
And A Sense That The World Was Crazy
I Saw She Was Quite The Grafter
And This Her Patrimony

In A Disused Factory
Run By A Character; Delvin The Wizard
A Brothel Stood Most Memorably
Owned By The Mob Of Hamstead

She Would Pout And Pose On A Union Jack
Tell Tale Tales Of City Rent Boys
Who’d Sprinkle On Cornflake; Crack
But There’s Something About Her Poise

Her Vagabond Scraf, Guttersnipe Appeals
Made Me A Slave To Her High Heels
We, Two Dandies With Dirty Fingernails
Became Spivs And Dodged Time In Jails

She Weren’t Just A Junkie Bag Snatcher
We Lived Private Lives With Public Antics
Her Vast Ambition; Like Lady Thatcher
Was Nothing More Than ‘up The Bracket’

We Lived A Scene From A Neo- Dickensian
Netherworld; Of Rogues And Romances
And In An Anarchist Squat Called Albion
We Made Love Like Princes

And Left At Her Revolving Door
Were Illusions Of Grandeur
The Red-Blood Walls Reek
Of A Nicotine Boutique

The Onyx Leather Sofas Tattered
Where For A Dollar She’d Been Battered
Magic And Mayhem An Equal Diet
Her Living Room Started Many A Riot

I’d Show Her Sherlock Holmes
She’d Show Me How To Skin-Up
I Was Drunk On Her Love Syndrome
She’d Drink A Gin In Tea-Cup

After An Interval, Two Rum And Cokes
‘I Can’t See Straight, ‘ She Jokes
“tickle Me Up Me Nighty
And Take Me Back To Blighty.”

The Camaraderie The Filthiness
A Kitchen-Sink-Drama
Like Robin Asquith’s Naughtiness
Our Bonhomie A New Panorama

Her Vision Of Blake And Gadflies
Prove There’s A Niche For Savage Hedonism
Knights And Knaves May Never Materialise
But We’ll Continue Head-On-Winsome

My Mind’s Psychedelic Imagery
Wants To Take Your Derrière
Away From All This Reality
Waterloo To Wherever You Dare

They Branded Me The Pied Viper Of Hackney
She Was Influenced By My Anarchy
What A Shame She Slipped In The Rain
Poor Dancing Girl Won’t Dance Again