twelve songs

stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone
prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone
silence the pianos and with muffled drum
bring out the coffin let the mourners come

let aeroplane circle moaning overhead
scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'
put the crepe bow around the white neck of public doves
let traffic policemen wear black, cotton gloves

He was my North, my South, my East and West
My working week, my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

the stars are not wanted now, put out everyone
pack up the moon, dismantle the sun
pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood
for nothing now can ever come to any good..

i watched four weddings and a funeral a few days ago and i was reminded of fred. may he rest in peace. Amen