Spinnaker

I can tell you that you’ve got to put your spinnaker up before you hoist the
main sail. Nine, ten, jack and you hold.
In a stately home his father bequeathed on his second birthday,
was just another Wednesday morning which sealed his fate as mister,
master of all, wouldn’t have to lift a finger in life or keep-a-hold the coat
tails.
It lights up what you can’t see, this hand in front of me.
Now it’s late and nine, ten, jack and the wheel ai his beck and his call (these
days he never sees the morning).
And a fence screens those outside of the wall from the people within he wouldn’t have to lift a finger in life just in case the moat fails.