From: "Bad Dreams At Night"

Walking In The World

My shambolic living room - a pile of books
And there's a Photostat of Paul Muldoon - I think it's Mules
And there's a phone call from the blue which damn well seals my fate
You say that Long-guy's out, Nick's engaged
What are you doing later?

So not an hour has passed before the Merrie Englande warms us
Sat at the Poet's Table, supping Kenco by the gobful
We can't afford a sandwich but that's never brought to mind
Spluttering coffee onto the table
And we'll have ourselves a fine old time

Laddo, what it is to be
Talking shop, like pop and poetry
Laddo, in love with all these girls
And walking in the world

Back at your house for a brew - coffee please
And I may as well remain for tea - that's kind of you
You pass me half your latest while you slave upon the stove
That's my guitar that's in that poem, that's my last line you stole

Well, you may have pinched a line or two, I've pinched a stack off you
And Ali shoves the door wide as we serve the non-meat stew
I say these things are getting better but the best is yet to come
I think this is what we really want - belonging, choosing to belong

Laddo, what it is to be
Talking shop, like pop and poetry
Laddo, in love with all these girls
And walking in the world

Of course, there is no rash of sparks
Just some light that bounces off the railway track behind your house
And as we run across the railway bridge and make our way to town
Some kids are playing hide and seek behind the bus-turnround

I say the sun is a good advert for the railway and for us
We say that Huddersfield is smashing, as we climb onto the bus
So with our feet upon the seat, we imagine this small townness
Is important and it is, but only to us, I guess

Laddo, what it is to be
Talking shop, like pop and poetry
Laddo, in love with all these girls
And walking in the world