The Man with the Gull on his Head

He never fell to Earth,

or sold the world;

he never had a golden gun,

or left a banner unfurled.

But, he was recognised everywhere,

that he and his passenger went,

from Land’s End to John o’Groats,

from Cape Wrath down to Kent.

“There he is!” the crowds would cry,

“The Seagull with a man under its feet!”

and the man would stop, and sigh;

resigned to be known as such

for ever more,

for the gull, it had forgotten

exactly how to fly.