Janis Parker poured Grave Water over my head,
On the way to the station.
a jam jar full of stagnent flower water,
A misty, slime tinged mucus.
It stank something chronic.
I can’t remember, all these years on,
what I did to provoke this foul Baptism,
but it must have been something bad.
Janis laughed her nickers off all the way to Knutsford