I cross the word with one stroke
And push the time with another
I use the sun to breaststroke
And heel the west with summer
It takes no longer in a shout
That most would see for humble pasts
But no one knows who is the buyer
Of yesterday’s messiah.
The Nature of the man within
Does not begin to narrow
Until it marks the coming day
With every tune a Walter P Scott.
COPYRIGHT Bruce E Saunders 2020
Clue – in Wiltshire a Walter P Scott is a furrow
See Walter P Scott’s “Cunt like my arse”
For the mathematicians think one to one mapping