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He’s steaming again, back to his old ways,
Right off the wagon after being dry for days.
He lurches left and right with a sigh and a puff,
A voracious drinker, he never has enough.

Don’t stray too close to his erratic sway
Or be foolish enough to stand in his way.
He has only one all consuming desire,
He’ll burn baby burn, don’t mess with his fire.

Still he sticks to his job, solid as a brick,
So I ain’t bothered my iron’s an alcoholic.

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Welcome to my Canvas

Some of the items on this site won’t be to everyone’s liking, I get that. Basically this is my place, my wee studio to mess around in – experimenting with words and thoughts. I’ll be chuffed if you enjoy it, but if you don’t, c’est la vie. As a friend used to tell me “it would be a boring life if we all thought the same.”

Jack Montgomery
A wine press,
On a farm at the end of the dirt track,
The Setúbal Peninsula,