without you  morning walkers at the Lakes would be arrested for jay-walking

without you every stranger on the road would be guilty of stalking

without you  the kosha-mangsho I make would lose all its zing

without you even the stars would not have a song to sing

without you faces would stare out of my paintings deadpan and still

without you even the Distillers Edition Lagavulin would taste like swill

without you the daily sudoku would come out with the numbers filled in

without you the speakers would gather dust  the silver would never gleam

without you Theatre Road and Park Street would be two way again

without you no one would switch on indicators to show the  way

without you police constables would line up by the river and shoot themselves dead

without you my life’s balance sheet would forever be in the red

without you the mall at  Darjeeling would be full of ghosts going ’round

without you the boys at St Paul’s would never come down to town

without you money earned would just be money earned

without you there would be no holidays no parties to be planned

without you there’s no shopping no crappy movies no shoes

no happy faces of the girls that light up when they see you

no rainy days no full moons no blankets on a wintry afternoon

no sulking no squabbling no kiss and make up all too soon

no laughter no life a’ deux

without you.