Down the endless garden 
to a hand-built shed of wonders
and little me, sitting with my grandad
listening to all the voices
pushing through the static

What magic in those wires!
The narrow band, the wide
The squelch and the gain
The whistle and the whine
sounds I’ll never forget

The spectrum of a planet 
chattering
Such wisdom in rough fingers
so deft upon the dial
gently they’d ...

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When I was young, I wanted ham

But my old mum

gave me spam, spam, spam

She gave me so much spam

I couldn’t taste the bread

For spam lay on my stomach

Like dull and heavy lead

If I complained too much

She’d sing the old refrain

About starving kids in Africa

Where spam clouds never rained

Where ham was never heard of

And they had no spam...

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