No More In The Coffers Keep

No more in the coffers keep
Before thine hand I shall not sleep
To smoke a cigarette beside the bale
Near the riverhead where the women wail

Boundless be the lands of plenty
Beyond the shore of this fine jetty
Where silver clouds are lined with gold
And none of the days are bitter cold

From the word of my fortunate tongue
What is the total of the earthly sum
How is it so, that one man begs
While others watch without their legs

Hoist the yardarm and trim back the sail
And listen for the one that comes to wail

Immense thyself beside the sea
And come to honour the real me
And know thy hand, of my loving heart
Before my eyes grow old and I depart

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| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy