The Dogs are Gone
In Eastbourne, or Lewes. Well Brighton Way
The Rain it was that killed us
Two Bites
Forgive me. I am about to break wind
He hit him in the head
Three lonely guys and a sad old dog
Mary Ellen at the Pawn Shop door, baby in her hand and the bundle on the floor
Polishing the threshhold
Gangplank
The wind off the sea whipping our faces
Bugs live in spotless houses
Soaping, scrubbing, swilling off
He moved from Salop to Splott
Coal Dust signature
This is Tom. This is Jane. Tom Loves Jane. Jane loves Frank.
A soiled mattress, bugs, probably
ORCHID
In about 1900, here or hereabouts
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