Jack

<br>Jack went out one stormy day<br>To see where his feet would go<br>They took him from his sleeping town<br>Across land both high and low<br>They took him through the velvet streets<br>Where men walked on their toes<br>And down the slopes<br>Where bottled hell<br>And blind men lie in rows<br>Jack walked through the treacle swamps<br>And crossed the salt dry plains<br>He passed he house where tall, thin dogs<br>Pulled on their iron chains<br>He heard the songs of seed germ girls<br>Who warmed the frozen fields<br>And as Jack walked<br>He felt the corn<br>Push up his tired heels<br>He saw the heathens` heather hills<br>He watched a boiling sea<br>He met a man with wooden hands<br>Carved from an old fruit tree<br>The old man said he dreamt at night<br>Of blossom roots and knives<br>And that night when<br>Jack went to sleep<br>He dreamt of damson pies<br>Jack walked out one stormy day<br>To see where his feet would go<br>They took him north, they took him east<br>But never took him home