He jumped in without thinking,
and a life was saved.
He's never been called "brave" but he is.
Walks everywhere,
A full head of hair,
Cuts his meat with a fork.
And he rescued me with a projector.
Yorkshire men are quiet,
of few words and fewer embraces
but when he burrowed beneath our
house and fathomed a fiver
from my ear, I didn't
even know about fear then.
His mother, father, brother
now daughter
the thought of his strong strong heart
persisting though,
keep on walking,
he has taught me about love.
A walking metaphor,
he told me that the reason for
his slap-dashery
was so she didn't slip back
under the net again. And in fact,
he is that river he leapt into.
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