The bicycles go by in twos and threes - br There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night, br And there's the half-talk code of mysteries br And the wink-and-elbow language of delight. br Half-past eight and there is not a spot br Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown br That might turn out a man or woman, not br A footfall tapping secrecies of stone. br I have what every poet hates in spite br Of all the solemn talk of contemplation. br Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight br Of being king and government and nation. br A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king br Of banks and stones and every blooming thing.