By Mike 'Sport' Murphy
Don't mind what anybody's saying.
The dogs are out here playing,
with God and Stanshall smiling down.
Don't mind those tombs you've half-erected
from stacks of the collected works of
Someday, our eyes will see the glory
that we've only glimpsed, limping through this purgatory.
Hold on tight to these romances - days of Kerry Dances;
skies of Parrish blue.
'Round here, no one understands us...
but look what they're like! Hallelujia!
Strike the band up!
We'll grow old as two young lovers -
here to see each other safely to our home.
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