Michael

You dropped like Peter Pan into the nursery,

And taught the younger children how to fly.

You left your shadow, which we burn in ceremony,

To set your spirit free into the sky.

They took you from your Highgate pram, (not Kensington)

From place to place your infant soul was tossed,

To settle here and there, a gentle gatekeeper.

Your sweet smile welcomed in the lo...

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In Axilfah on Thundersday we heard a sonic boom.

The rain came down but words held sway within a tight packed room.

They came from Leeds and Lancashire, from Cleckheaton and Hudd.

They raised their arms and voices too and spoke of death and blood.

And local wordsmiths said their piece. What rants and hymns we heard

when Genevieve her coven called to utter Weird Words

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