In Amsterdam or Copenhagen, Or any harbor that is a haven,
I did as I was told:
I wrote god it came out gold. Many stole. I got caught.
I was the lucky thirteenth caller Who heard the verdict in time’s cellar.
They said I would be shot.
In this place or that, Or any place I hang my hat,
They never called me sir. But god, did I love fighting with her
In college in New Haven, Where minds were bought
And minds were sold For ten cents on the dollar.
I heard the verdict in time’s cellar. She was the buyer. I was the seller.
When we opened in New Haven, She quipped it was no heaven.
But god, did I love fighting with her, Before and after writhing with her,
In this place or that, Or any place I hang my hat.
If wishes and deeds were one, And nothing new under the sun,
Absent us not from felicity awhile; Rather behold the face of heaven
Contort into the shape of a smile As we stroll down the aisle
In Amsterdam or Copenhagen
Or any harbor that is a haven.