Colin Johnston Biography

My head is burning with her gripes
Why am I always wrong not right?

Continually…
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<font color=green>They lie side by side,
But apart, not touching,
Separated by inches,
Which may as well be miles.
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You are my Lily, I am your Rose
In our Garden we repose
I watch you blossom
Day and Night
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They no longer use it
Since they’ve passed away
One we had for ten years
when the other came to stay
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The air is filled with reeking smoke
It's just enough to make ye boak

But when the law forbids the habit,
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