The Ballad of Werner Forssmann
When strolling once in old Berlin I was stopped by man and violin For two coins in his new tin can He would play me
science
A North West Wind Blows
A dissenter by birth, and in Kendal well trapped, But at twenty-six he left it behind. In Manchester, John Gouge’s knowledge was tapped, A case
Pierre, Remembered
Springtime in Paris, A life illuminating Ended by a horse
Light Without Meat
The little dog waits for his master to come, His belly is empty, his palette is numb. Oh, when will there be some food in
The Cat That Was (Not)
The cat woke up; all around him was black, His paws and his head really smarted. He felt on the verge of a panic attack,