On this still Sunday afternoon,

My love lies down to rest.

Brentford, sing her a soothing tune

Stray noises, try your best. 

Plane, make it a sonorous drone,

Traffic, a kind sigh,

Keep perfect silence, telephone,

Far voices, don’t quite die

But make a pleasant murmur; breeze

Kiss barely audibly.

Her favourite flowers, knowing she’s

The fairest flower to me.

Dogs, if you bark, be miles away – 

Rat Scabies* do not drum!

And all the sleep sounds of day,

Tread quietly as you come

*He was a nearby drumming neighbour, a would-be pop star who didn’t make it. 

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