Mr Price

Elegant, blond and thin

He came right from the streets

To an old cinnamon boutique

Where a dad a his son

Kept arguing about opium

“Many are displaced here

Where life flows upstream”

What curious eyes this man has!

Like the shade of something passed

He looks like a dolphin

Out of a giant intestine

No living soul he has seen

For several months, several years

Cats and men for him are the same

So as the man and his son

Who are arguing about opium

“You may just be spectres

Or a gloom from my mind”

“What is the name he’s been given?

Maybe Lord something or Earl of else?

He has not a name yet!

But we sure shall guess!”

Some said he was a free man

Or a someone from past times

Who was the unknown

If not Mr Price

But who was Mr Price

If not a mad man