Oh the poignancy!
Oh the bitter-sweet and sour!
Measured out by the spoonful,
The minute, to the dread hour.
In the window,
Working, scheming,
In the pub,
Joking, screeching,
In the bed,
Snorting, dreaming,
And all of it so very swell,
It fills the time so well.
Now the faces have faded,
All the eyes are dead,
The feet are gone
That here did tread,
Fresh faces pace the streets,
The halls of the same houses,
Take out the approximate garbage
For their approximate spouses.
Larry Buttrose
