All in a hot and copper sky, / The bloody Sun, at noon, / Right up above the mast did stand, / No bigger than the Moon.

She seemed so alive, with her shining eyes and her copper hair and her jokes and funny stories, but there was always a mystery at the center of her life, the sound of wild sobbing…

One evening as I was lying down in Leicester Square / I was picked up by the coppers and kicked in the balls