In the morning time in Paris, she lay her head out on the sill

gnashing cigarette ends, spying down upon the hill.
Stumbling down the Boulevard she doesn’t speak a spot of Babel,

there’s other skills in getting by in a life spent lost in travel.

Trench coat, and a rucksack with the finest teas inside

It’s easy making headway with Ms. Jenks along your side.

​

We went down the river, looking for fish on the fly
she robbed me of my dagger and waved it in the sky

Cashmere clad, her sight is bad she relies on intuition

Steely with resolve she waved off any intermission
Even leaving empty handed, we never let a sigh, because

It’s easy making headway with Ms. Jenks along your side.

​

Well, she’s the finest Craftsman you’ll likely come across
Tapestries like Bayeux, prose so cool you’ll bite with Frost
A renaissance revival, with dreams stoked with hope
To be a modern kind of Caesar, or a reconstructed Pope.
They’ll put her on the money, a convincing platform for anyone to ride

It’s easy making headway with Ms. Jenks along your side.

​

Now this is no Ovation, simply a statement of the facts
A message for any travellers, keep your eyes peeled on the tracks

Listen out for knitting needles and Depression Era jazz
Try to make a friend of her if you do ever cross paths
There’s no more faithful troubadour to travel with in tow
Thank goodness for the many miles left for us to go!