He wears the course cloth cap 
of a Russian poet, or a pout-lipped 
fashion model: his overalls, untouchable, 
reflect the dark like a radar screen.

Most of his tools he has borrowed 
and it's doubtful they'll be returned.
You've never seen the badger's bum
he's reputedly as rough as.

You’d not choose him in a shipwreck, 
but you could very well be wrong..
Should the lifeboat engine fail to start 
or fall apart, he'd be your man.

He'd shuffle the pieces like Scrabble, 
rebuild, using four-letter words—coax, 
ease the engine into life with tales 
of his sea-going time and brothels in B.A.

He does not take discipline kindly, Rules
he repeats, are for the observance of fools 
and the guidance of wise men, take my word.
You can see facets of yourself in him.

Rambler, angler, wildfowler when he's free, 
he knows widgeon and the flight of lapwings, 
hears the blackbird writing the score for dawn 
above the plainsong of the wind.