CORINNE



I've lost France, I've lost Corinne;
I lost her artlessly in a bad dream
Of independence. You could say
she was never mine to begin with,
but companions grow on you,
especially ones who know how to
stencil and stipple
and stay out of pubs.


I've lost France, I've lost Corinne
she knew how to stencil and stipple
and stay out of pubs
she wasn't interested in a tipple
all that's left, her pencil stubs.





FOR CORINNE


We walked to the Mussenden Temple,
The Bishop of Derry's old out-house
Or rotunda, used for chamber recitals.
If the past were restored, we'd have a seat there,
listening to Bizet's Arlesienne Suite.

The fresh air of the North coast would fill your sails,
Portstewart's red sunset would colour your cheeks,
In the evening, I'd wait for your laugh
as we watched Maurice Chevalier
in his straw-boater in Love me Tonight.