What I Owe John Martyn.

On Saturday evening,

as light slants in the windows, and the house is quiet,

with only the murmur of the tv drifting up from the sitting room.

I'm going out tonight.

In the hallway, I pause at the mirror.

Behind me, in the kitchen, a quiet song, this song, is playing,

has crept into my ear.

In my mirror, this is what I behold.

Jay is doing his magic.

He hums along quietly, 

rocking to sleep,

our child, 

pulled into sleep,

a song that tugs my heart,

a scene that tugs my heart.

I step out of my heels,

and into the kitchen.

Reluctant to leave.

***

Spencer the Rover.

This tune was composed by Spencer the Rover
As valiant a man as ever left home
And he had been much reduced
Which caused great confusion
And that was the reason he started to roam.

In Yorkshire near Rotherham, he had been on the ramble
Weary of travelling, he sat down to rest
By the foot of yon' mountain
Lays a clear flowing fountain
With bread and cold water he himself did refresh.

With the night fast approaching, to the woods he resorted
With wood, vine and ivy his bed for to make
But he dreamt about sighing
Lamenting and crying
Go home to your family and rambling forsake.

Twas the fifth day of November, I've reason to remember
When first he arrived home to his family and friends
And they did stand so astounded
Surprised and dumbfounded
To see such a stranger once more in their sight.

And his children come around him with their prittle prattling stories
With their prittle prattling stories to drive care away
And he's as happy as those
As have thousands of riches
Contented he'll remain and not ramble away.