Oxford uk

A’ hour early
These civilian affairs
Are jacked and burly many
And the ladies I do declare
I’m trying to dry off my trousers
A’ hour early
No-ones there until the manager arouses and with a sidekick rushes the twin
In the mens
Armed with broom
I let go that ankles fall again
But there is an intruder here
It’s waiting for drabs in a storm for taxicab cheer
The closing waiter with public prayer
For showing some skin the rain hides your tears
Without a sound
The excuses for intoxication
Festivals that dumb down the nation
Knowing right and wrong without the patience
Of weightless pounds