Tonight the tide is running high br And from my garden in the dark br I hear the hidden curlews call br And just beyond, two fields away, br The muffled roaring of the sea. br br Above my head the empty sky br Save far away the shining stars br And lighted splendour of the moon. br The air is cold upon my skin, br The wind has blown and moaned all day. br br The lighted kitchen is inviting. br I heed its call and go inside, br In time to catch the evening news. br Of great concern as usual br Is football, opium of the people, br br A record transfer’s fallen through, br Supporters clash, abroad a stabbing, br A player’s failed a drug test, br Comments sought from managers, br The clubs, F.A. and Premier League, br br And so it goes, until at last, br It’s time for Northern Ireland. br And here we learn a new peace deal br That everyone had hoped would solve br That island’s ancient tribal feuds br br Has broken down, collapsed again br And each side bitterly blames the other. br The next item goes on to cover br The Tories’ annual conference— br I leave the room preferring darkness and the moon.