On suicide bridge, i found myself one spring morning in the frigid sunshine, weary of the humiliations of the crouch end. there i was. an old lady passed me. she smiled and said, "good morn
Young man." i looked at her and i said, "i'm going to kill myself." she smiled again and said, "yes, i think that's a very good idea."
On suicide bridge one winter's day
My eyes were sprouting lemons
I had paid a greek to listen to me speak
He said "limasol *, she beckons."
And so my subjects gathered beneath me there
I gave a mighty roar
"wi' me too-rye-ah, fah-la-deedle-dah"--
"shut up, irish bore!"
Come back, my children! come back! come back!
All that was lost has been regained, shall remain with us
Now and forever, amen.
Come back! come back! come back, my children! come back!
* a city in crete.
