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Clockwork Monkey
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House Of Rebecca
Here was the house of Rebecca
Who prayed at seven every night, I know
Because I did not and she always thought
I must be joking
Here was her old window
That silently took us inside
Her mother's muffled enquiries
Rumbling in the house
Like some distant thunder
Here was her bedpost
She hid tightly-wound comics in
Here a chest from India
You could squeeze and fit
The both of us in
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Here was her dog always asleep on the chair
Here was her box of secrets
Beneath the third along the stairs
Here's where she burnt her hands
On the candles that her father
Always kept there
Here was the house of Rebecca
A car park now for the store
Selling tea cakes and trinkets for tourists
They can sit on the balcony and listen
To the rumble of thunder in the hills
Before the next bus comes
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