No Mad

Haul up the anchor get ready to cast off
Wave goodbye to Mohammed in the corner shop
Stuff half your life in a cardboard box
Like the gypsy whose lifestyle you share

Pin the tail on the donkey find a page on the map
Stop the mail change your number and arrange for the cat
Get a lid for those memories of your sweet little flat
Cos no one but you really cares

Abandon quaint parks, street benches you've warmed
Feel yet strangely maudlin 'bout neighbours once scorned
Bite hard on that lip though and try not to mourn
Someone else will inhabit your lair

So hoist up the mainsail when there's nary a wind
And envisage an end to this ceaseless wandering
Meantime think Masai, Inuit or Bedouin
You ain't really going nowhere

©Ahealy 2007