Brunswick

<br>(Thomas)<br>In the summer all the old men, they sit on their front porches,<br>While the women comb their hair, shell their peas<br>And wonder what they`ve missed.<br>And the forlorn children scan the streets<br>For wayward dogs, with fading torches.<br>It`s no amazing sight, it`s something that I miss.<br>I still hear the trucks<br>as they crunch their gears going through the lanes,<br>And curse all folk who get stuck in their way<br>And the roaring forklift starting up<br>At 7am of a weekday morning<br>How I cursed them then, now I see things another way.<br>And if I see things through a hallowed gaze,<br>Well is it such a crime?<br>When I ain`t been to Brunswick for a long long time.<br>There was a kind word you could get<br>>From the man who ran the milk bar,<br>And a rough one from the old bloke<br>Who lived across the road, and though<br>The footpaths stank with the refuse<br>Of overfed Alsatians,<br>The air was rife with Tip Top Bread,<br>The baker`s morning load.<br>And if I see things through a hallowed gaze,<br>Well is it such a crime?<br>When I ain`t been to Brunswick for a long long time.<br>And there`s a cottage I think of,<br>Sometimes when I`ve been drinking,<br>And in the bottom of my glass,<br>I see a life I`ve missed,<br>Of summer walks and well trained dogs<br>And plenty of time for thinking.<br>So just don`t bother asking why the hell I`m always pissed.<br>But if I see things through a hallowed gaze,<br>Well is it such a crime?<br>When I ain`t been to Brunswick,<br>No I ain`t been to Brunswick,<br>I ain`t been nowhere near it for a long long time.