From cheering burghers of Brighton Wintry theatres in Brown seaside streets Robert Gibson took me through The lamp-adoring Welsh farms The inky sea was under us And on his back lay my long white arms This is the only true history of Lizzie Finn by herself To a world of tobacco and billiard tables Marriage in Christchurch The lonely vicars, Lost sparrows in the blueness Robert heaving Forever like a sailor On the rope of my drifting We had a daughter And that tang of cut grass Got into my dreams At night I went up to the old house tower Full of the true histories of spiders There in the best light With my candle shadows I hitched my linens And danced This is the only true history of Lizzie Finn by herself The only true history of Lizzie Finn The only true history of Lizzie Finn Of Lizzie Finn by herself