‘Cheer up, my doughty Sea King!’ I shout in manner bracing

“For I sicken of this city, of its traffic lights and taxes

Of the emails and the faxes, and the work and wage and worry

So, tell you what, my darling: you take me to your kingdom

And I'll romp with all your children, spin them stories by the daylight

Sing them lullabies at nighttime

And when they're sound and sleeping, I will creep

Into your bower, to your bed of bright anemone, where

I'll comb your hair with seashells, pour my palms in perfumed oil

By and by I'll take you deeper than ever Sea King ventured

We will scour off what's rotting, all these thoughts of sweet Agneta

Do you think we have a bargain?”