Fair Lass O'Hermon Hill

She went to seek her fortune in NZ one summer night;
If only she had paused awhile,
And remembered when we shared a winning city smile.
Beneath the sign of the Lamb and Flag
When she said she had to be away
I thought she spoke of a two week holiday in Denmark or Spain.
I still have the card where she wrote her phone number
The night she told me of the hero from Manchester,
When the HMV Sisters sang
And we knew that we would always be there,
Stars in our eyes, with the Mile End lights, for ever.
Amid the events of that year she played her part,
Partly thanks to her I was the Sweet Swan of E3
And even apart in summer her mark was still made,
She earned her vote of thanks well
For the debut of my magazine.
Warwick Road, Goldsmith Road, once great floods of shiny happy party people,
And another lovely lass I still fondly recall,
While Alf my devoted fan spoke of trans-love energies.
And though the wild years can never return
Yet I never thought I'd feel nostalgia for 01 numbers
Or for our Friday nights in a bedlam student bar.
Now as the bush telegraph tells me
Of another of those remembered faces getting married
I hope she's finally found the Holy Grail
Twelve thousand miles away,
And wish there was some way
For her to see each new poem and enjoy.