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• Artiste: Maria Mckee
• Titre: Right Down To The Heart Of London
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The little crumb trail I am leaving most assuredly will fade The notes to you that I dispatch will rot away There's one floating down the river Past The Globe and The Tate For a mudlark to find along the bank one day A wad of parchment wrapped and bound As a token, I leave them around The ink running wild now with the rain Not a wish or a spell but just a small appreciation Dropped right down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London In the blazing afternoon The studio at Leighton House Awash with gold and bathed in magic light I spot a small red volume on the mantel, where I leave one Between the pages of Dickens' Hard Times In the Gosling Boneyard on The Red Cross Way A row of shells line a solemn little grave And a hole in the ground where with a satisfying weight I drop one down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here, Right down to the heart of London Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where? Right down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London Down an alleyway in Peckham as the ladies file along I hear music and a door is swinging open And reverent little girls clad in robes of gleaming white Beckon me inside to come and join them And I'm kicking off my shoes and covering my head I need a taste of the raven Holy Ghost To lay me out and knock me down To purge and cleanse me to the ground Right down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here, Right down to the heart of London Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where? Right down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London From The Irish Sea at Bannow, Wexford I would swim right to The Channel 'Til I reach your native shore To wash up with the tide And all the notes that I've been writing Sink away and I won't need them anymore And the lights on the bridge, William Blake and the grid And the whisper room that winds around Saint Paul's Sir John Soane found me in his parlor all alone Weeping at the beauty of it all Down down down right down Down down down down... With courtly admiration and sworn appreciation, here, Right down to the heart of London Not a wish or a prayer but a ritual has brought me, where? Right down to the heart of London Down to the heart of London