Daddy came out the navy and took us away to his dirty grey home town. And he worked down a coal mine for National Service so that he could be around. There was a magical purple in the chrome of the exhaust of his Triumph motor bike and a warmth of oil and metal and the thrill of the hard corner holding tight. From the horizon came home from the navy to the mine. From the horizon to buried alive. Took his dream underground buried his treasure in his faraway eyes.
Oh mummy, daddy, will you sit a while with me Oh mummy, daddy, will you jog my memory. Tell me tall tales of Montego Bay, Table Mountain, flying fish, banana spiders, pots of paint. And the sun on the equator setting like an ember thrown to deep water. From crimson to black. But coming back tomorrow on the horizon.
