Chapman

In the late 1980s and in the 1990s, a couple of my favourite singers were Enya and Tracy Chapman. With headphones and a disc player, I listened to their music at my software workplace, an old brick building, the windows showing the harbour and railroad tracks that went beside the quaint Gastown district of the city of Vancouver, BC. I wore then a heavy dark-blue winter jacket with shoulder straps; it made me look like a student soldier from the 19th century.

Done. They are gone: the sum is here in bank, my Face. I would we knew another chapman now would buy 'em outright.

When chapmen billies leave the street, / And drouthy neibors, neibors meet, / As market days are wearing late, / An' folk begin to tak the gate