Mango Walk

passes and we are locked into the plight

of one far distant who is not alone

although that pain is hidden from our sight

nothing is done by you in our despite

at invocation we will light the blaze

we see again the colder harder days

you know the value of a simple stone

and how to make it shed a little light

that will convert to something hardly known

to those who claim to be straight and forthright

our task is not to hasten nor excite

but to take you most swiftly through the maze

we see again the colder harder days

we know the colour of the human bone

and how to polish it and turn it bright

as instrument to punish and atone

plain cure for darkness and the coming blight

this product of the sacrificial height

must be exposed unto the divine gaze

we see again the colder harder days

hopes and desires are wholly overblown

what is to come will never give us right

nor any justice since the truth is flown

out of the window into the cold night

and what is left is not for our delight

no one would want to give us love or praise

we see again the colder harder days

we choose to fear our thoughts and not to rest

when all we have to do is just abstain

from acting and let others do their best

to show their zeal and justify their zest

our hearts belong to the soft flute and lyre

and all we do is temper your desire

your choice is simple come in from the rain

and leave to others now the daily test

some things should be as obvious and plain

as if they had by others been confessed

but you would move at their not our behest

to raise your voice in that abysmal choir

and all we do is temper your desire

you don't expect to go against the grain

without some price being instantly assessed

life is not life without some darkling bane

upon your body at some time being pressed

you do not hold such things close to your breast

but flee at once from indications dire

and all we do is temper your desire

to act with thought will bring you greater gain

than thoughtless action you would soon detest

that should be obvious and not arcane

this is no time for foolishness or jest

as better folk than you can well attest

you have to show your worth to any buyer

and all we do is temper your desire

no reason now to disregard or flout
any who come in with a noble air
it's far too easy for a fool to spout
all sorts of nonsense without any care
but honesty and decency are rare
while human kindness has not been a thing
of which a single soul has been aware
the summer swallow is not on the wing

the ones who know not what they talk about
will all complain that life is never fair
but none of them has yet been racked with doubt
about the duties that they have to bear
no thought of honour have they now to spare
but all of them desire to have a fling
before the coming of dark and despair
the summer swallow is not on the wing

the ones who talk are not the most devout
regarding their desires but they will stare
at anyone who comes to jump and shout
in celebration at the village square
they will resist the anger and the glare
but should be ready soon to leap or spring
upon the ones who'd never think to dare
the summer swallow is not on the wing

only the coward fears to suffer rout
the rest of us will see what we can bear
in facing perils we hope to be stout
and keep our spirits in the best repair
the best will all the foolery forswear
while to the fray they will their honour bring
that is the fine thing about this affair
the summer swallow is not on the wing

we don't just let the big wheels idly spin
while on their purposes we long reflect
our sole intention is to fight and win
and no worse outcome do we project
for all the answers that you might confect
we know that each day rapidly grows old
but all that matters is the shining gold

each action has its dark shadowy twin
but that should not our happy thought deject
we look for positives when we have been
the ones to say the words and then select
the goodly matters best for the elect
since that's a story that needs to be told
but all that matters is the shining gold

we know the slower ones won't soon begin
before the angry have the cowards decked
we know the shark before we note the fin
and all things happen as we would expect
our task is just to sum up and collect
once the events we waited for unfold
but all that matters is the shining gold

you keep your feelings right under the skin
a practice that we do not think correct
since you will blame us when you choose to sin
against the freedom that we won't reject
yet all your ranting achieves no effect
you have gained not a thing that we controlled
but all that matters is the shining gold

There's nothing that conveys a sense of fear
as when you see a fast car bearing down
on you, and it becomes startlingly clear
the driver's not much better than a clown.
You may get angry, you might even frown,
but you know, with a growing sense of dread,
there's every chance that you will wind up dead.
But, as in every chance, what seems to count
is what you think, what's inside your small head;
and that is not the Sermon on the Mount.

What you find at such times you cannot bear,
is thoughts about whether you hang or drown;
you're rooted to the spot, you cannot tear
yourself away; your trousers will turn brown
and you'll express yourself with vulgar noun,
and all of life will hang on by a thread.
You'd give up every particle of street cred
if you could somehow this terror surmount.
But nothing works, you're paralysed by dread;
and that is not the Sermon on the Mount.

The vehicle, with luck, will halt in its career;
the driver might have learned his art in town.
Still, even as you express thanks you jeer
at someone who deserves a dunce's crown,
who lacks, indeed, any type of renown.
What you demand is that he pay you bread,
or you'll be calling the police instead.
And he'd better do this before you count
to ten, and call down anger on his head;
and that is not the Sermon on the Mount.

Austin Princess, you have gone on ahead
the news and information for to spread.
This fool of money's a veritable fount.
His mind is stone, his foot is made of lead;
and that is not the Sermon on the Mount.