Murph Sits Cross-Legged And Sings His Blues
Murph sits cross-legged and sings his blues
to a packed green-panelled loft room
he's frail and they want rid of him
we all know this time is his last
we'll watch when they come to drag him away
file silently back to our bunks
helpless but now we need someone
who's willing to tell us some truth
the pain all builds from inside him
we strain to catch every word
we'll all be gone soon, all scattered
when this place is sold off for flats
I'm late up and Murph's nearly done
I perch by the ladder to watch
heads part but he’s zonked already
passed out as he howled his last line
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