Hats Off

With the wind in your ear like an ivory crack,
You stand with her out on the balcony
Of the Belgrave Hotel, by the Irish sea
Waiting for some kind of alchemy

Maybe it's the rain, maybe the maid
Who hasn't even made the bed properly
But you're sure that you'll end up alone here tonight
Calling drunkenly out to the city:

"Hats off, harlots and charlatans!
Remove your noble bottletops
Hurl out no more gestures, expressions
Let us see the winged monstrosities
whose slits peer wild from beneath pert brims

"And no Earl Grey this morning, thank you

"Blow out your matches, put your John Players back,
Put your damn newspapers down,
England, throw down your spitfires,
Abandon your French breakfast
Hats off, ramparts and mannequins,
Gamesters, quacksalvers!

"Let us learn to love your disfigurements
Uncatalogue each mole and every hump
Let them speak for themselves
Strip away the orchestra
Tear cellos down
Tear codebooks up

"And no Earl Grey this morning, thank you."

With sand in your brogue and a kiss off the black,
You'll yell to them keenly,
"Don't dream of the future, baby,
Do not sit on deckchairs, with ice cream
dripping on reams of hateful plans for your body,
with your tactics for cricket, with horoscopes.
Blackpool beach was made for more
Turn your ravens loose

"Do not let the salesmen in your peaked helmets
oil their palms in glee
Do not be seduced by some supreme order
when you get the uniform
and I get the star
Do not be so fat and flabby in your bikini

"And no Earl Grey this morning, thank you
And don't forget the digitalis."

Like the screw on the white that scatters the pack
You've had to rely on some luck
To end up here, with your love in the rain
And you know it. You know it, you crook.