Was kept awake late last night by the sound
Of saxophones on late night radio
I'd just be sinking into a profound
And well-earned slumber, when this guy would blow
Into his horn; each number would confound
My attempts to escape from solid ground
Into that airy, fantastical realm
When the normal order would spin around
And I'd float happily by, like in films
Accepted everywhere with no real qualms
Like Mastercard or Visa, or the pound
When Britain ruled the world. (Long time ago -
Although you wouldn't think it, since we still
Massacre nasty tribesmen.) Slowly found
Myself asleep, but now the tiredness grows
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