Flotsam and Jetsam

Here are snatches of poetry and lines from songs that often swirl around the recesses of what passes for my brain:

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
knocking on the moonlit door;

At some lone homestead in the Cumner hills

From small beginnings, things of easy girth to formidable redundancies of mirth

Stately as a galleon, I sail across the floor, doing the military two-step, as in the days of yore

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by

Dim drums throbbing, in the hills half heard

All the way to Alfriston

My business of late has been terribly flat,
But I'm telling my wife she can have that new hat.