For Mr. Thomas Van Morrison

[Verse 1]
From faded newsprint used to wrap a fish
Inscrutably the muse selects your face
As I sit drinking famously in an Irish bar
Five thousand miles and thirty years away

[Verse 2]
With all the usual ceremonial you were crowned one night
King of the field where doctors nail the cows
To make of the cock's quill the rights of language
And the pricking heart a sword against the hours

[Verse 3]
Let smirking scholars writhe in their favourite bondage
And hold you plaintiff to the charge of art
Exhibit A: He falls on legendary lines
Singing mother I don't want a pain here in my heart (Alright)

[Guitar Solo]

[Verse 4]
The judge in me sucks eggs and jerks the sacred meat
But the boy in me still dreams in Milk Wood town
Like two provincial bastards playing the galleries
I hold your photo to the mirror upside down