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I'll mAmake love to Fyou G
Am in all good Fplaces G
Am under black Fmountains G
Am in opeFn spaces. G
BAmy deep brown rFivers G
Am that slither Fdarkly G
Am through far mFarches G
where the bAmlue hare Fraces. G
FCome with Dm7me to the WiCnged Isle ---
F northernDm7 father's wesAmtern child.
FWhere the dance ofDm7 ages is plaCying still
F through far Gmarches of aE7cres Dwild.
REST THE SAME
I'll make love to you
in narrow side streets
with shuttered windows,
crumbling chimneys.
Come with me to the weary town ---
discos silent under tiles
that slide from roof-tops, scatter softly
on concrete marches of acres wild.
By red bricks pointed
with cement fingers
Flaking damply from sagging shoulders.
Come with me to the Winged Isle ---
northern father's western child.
Where the dance of ages is playing still
through far marches of acres wild.
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