There's the road sweeper, who always wears a leather cowboy hat - he's tall and thin, with an austere expression - I see him, on Wareham Quay, wreathed in seagulls -
Outside Farwells, the newsagents, I'll see a man with the wounded face of a castaway - he wears a venerable Barbour and has mad blue eyes - his rug is like matted felt - he roams the town, a sort of Holy Fool, unsettling shoppers with his fierce stare -
I'll bump into Jocelyn, emerging from The Rex - she has a plummy voice and startling hair, dyed jet black - she was an actress in the 1940's - she once played the part of Sally Bowles - now in her eighties, her second home is this small quirky cinema - she'll be sipping her bumper of red when she hands over your ticket - ah, Christopher Bradley she'll drawl -
On my way to Sainsburys , I'll have to pass the Bosnian Big Issue Lady - she has a large brown face, an air of patient suffering - she'll be smiling her hopeful yet guarded smile - how can I resist her?
Ah, I have many little ones - my youngest one is ill, in hospital - God bless you - Happy Merry Christmas - God bless you -
She's wearing a black jacket and denim skirt - she could be standing on the Kreshchatik -
She's wearing a black jacket and denim skirt - she could be standing on the Kreshchatik -
I see her from inside the warm red Peugeot when it's raining - the radio's on, icy rain drops run down the windows - she sees us, waving, greeting us -
God bless you - God bless you -
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