Shrouded from the city
Quiet drops in like a plum
My heart beating the beat
Of a dun-dun drum

Dressed in yet another
Of her colour-kissed frocks
She traces the stencil
At a sandstone box

She is my love and heart
I find bliss at her feet
In both mind and body
She makes me replete

Lawson was a poet
But now he lies quite dead
I feel no remorse in
Taking from his head

My love o’drapes her name
Like mist around the fell
I cannot take of her
A flaccid farewell