Well will wounded Wilko wield
his bloody red/black axe –
fingers fast on Fender.
Watch him as he chops, attacks,
his hearers hoarse ring rafters
Weighty wordsmith’s word hoard wanders
through the streets and down by jetties.
Long his living lays will linger
in the wide world’s towns and cities
So, for fearless friend and friendship,
many moons and miles remembered
in the Great Halls of our minds,
Rock on! Sing on! Play loud and tender
as your flame bursts from the embers
still yet you steal a march on Time.
