Through the dark and wind that gusts and bustles,

Beneath a sky the icy moon adorns

Along cold pavements where the dead leaf rustles, 

By withered grass which long-dead summer mourns

‘Cross roads where brutal traffic the walker hustles

And traffic light the mere pedestrian scorns

I went and bought us half a pint of mussels

I went to get us half a pint of prawns

Hoping the subtle flavour gives you bliss

A propos of nothing, give me a kiss. 

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