and Indeed you lose...

A dreaded sunny day so I meet you at the cemetry gates.

Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day so I meet you at the cemetry gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

while Wilde is on mine

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones, all those people, all those lives

where are they now?

with the loves and hates and

passions just like mine they were born and then they lived and then they died

seems so unfair

and

I want to cry

You say: "ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"and you claim these words as your own

but I've read well, and I've heard them said a hundred times, maybe less, maybe more

If you must write prose and poems the words you use should be your own

don't plagiarise or take "on loans"

there's always someone, somewhere with a big nose, who knows and trips you up and laughs when you fall

who'll trip you up and laugh when you fall

You say: "ere long done do does did"

words which could only be your own

and then you then produce the textfrom whence was ripped some dizzy whore, 1804

A dreaded sunny day so let's go where we're happy and I meet you at the cemetry gates

Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side

A dreaded sunny day so let's go where we're wanted and I meet you at the cemetry gates

Keats and Yeats are on your side

but you lose because wild lover Wilde is on mine

Cemetry Gates. The smiths.