Coughing like a what?

An old tug-boat?

About the size of it.

Remember too they're solid muscle them,

all heart, and made

for strain, to heave and lug …

enough to see great liners off.

Doesn't just to think it tense up

something proud? Make you think

of block and tackle jobs,

white hoisted sails,

canvas with a bellyful of speed.

Well, that's all gone.

Marvelled at Simmo,

remember? All that dying

in a fierce room

bulked about with wardrobes –

how we whispered that

his heart was workhorse,

and we knew he'd let no mercy in,

have no pity for himself.

Why remember that? O yes, tug-boats

and the cockles and the muscles of

the heart. Correct. And we were on about

miladdo there coughing … and I had

got it in my skull that you were twitting him,

tendons tautened, memories of effort nudged.

I thought that something needed praise,

at least required sticking up for.

What did you saying was keeping him alive?

XXXX Ale … and a young bit about sixteen!