"The Unfinished Work" dedicated to my firend Jo Marsh (15th April 1944 - 10th May 2018) who's funeral was this week.
I would like to say that Jo Marsh was my friend, but actually Jo was a friend to everyone he meet, he was just that kind of guy.
Read at the funeral.....
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from backing with the juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message: "He is dead!"
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now; putout every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.