Great Sutton
Great Sutton
Cypress lane, I lived there for years never saw a tree.
Gas fire in the living room, the bedrooms were glaziers,
If it hadn’t been for the pub nearby I would surely have
frozen to death; that’s why I used to fall asleep on
the sofa, in the living room, when coming home from
the pub. If my wife was in the mood she sat up waiting
for me, most of the time she wasn’t; said I was a drunk.
Sober people came knocking on my door, insisted on
telling their story, politely I let them talk, but I noticed
they smoked a lot and that wasn’t good for my throat.
Warm pub, cold bedroom, no contest, I got up and left.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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