Life’s backdrop

One day we set off

on a little trip,

oh Lord, to hike up

a middle eastern hilltop

in a madcap

attempt to find (on top)

a theatre of blocks

and yet no cairns of rocks

were there to guide or map

our way on up;

no arrows, dots

of paint - but on we stepped

(not at a trot)

without a single drop

of water in a cup

(to sip or sup)

and we didn’t stop

until we reached the top

where we three chaps

gave up

and stopped,

regrouped,

then clocked

we’re in the soup

and on that spot

we dropped

our cross.

Andrew will

dance through time like Peter Pan

and keep us dancing still;

freer than a sober man

or a girl who drank her fill.

Dancing’s like a spirit

that sober men endure

but drunken folk enjoy it

before they lie and snore.

Kick your feet and wave your hands,

feel the music’s wave;

drunk or sober, help us dance

like Elvis from the grave.