Poetry by
Gregory McIntyre

I wouldn’t say no, to a hearth and a home But pending a pay rise and then some, I may be content In this tenement Squeezed for two thirds my income

I could use, a break to relax But having just done my income tax, I may choose to unwind By crying at work In the cupboard next to the thumb tacks

At the Opera House (which I think is grouse) I get lost in a reverie But our leader says That pride can cool it That it’s not even Fresh in our memory

Cathy Cathy, to my window come Your Heathcliff waits for you But if perchance You don’t exist A substitute will do