One for the Road
Trapped, cornered, holed, done,
One for the road and another one.
Battened down, blighted, split in half,
And a third to make the prisoner laugh.
It isn't you and it isn't me,
It's the rope between that makes us three,
And for our sakes I'll have one more
To rattle the handle of the iron door.
You'll jerk the chain and stroke my head
And kiss my body in our bed.
It's five for the words you won't believe
And six for the home you'll never leave,
Seven for all the faith that's flown
And eight for thoughts which split the bone,
And nine for fear and ten for pain
And now I'll just have one again.
© Morag Emmerson, 1979.
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