Soonest flight

‘Bless my buttons, Twemlow,
what’s a gal to do?
All the papers have got hold
of our secret billet doux!’

— Don’t worry Leonora,
I’ll retrieve the steamy missive,
and place it in your fair hand
before you’ll even miss it.

‘Too late, too late, my Twemlow,
our secret is exposed,
garish headlines in the press
the scandal grows and grows!’

‘Our only choice is instant flight
across the briny dip.
Let’s hie us both to Margate,
to catch the soonest ship.’

— But we can’t be seen together,
that would give them ammunish
to bolster their own armoury
of lies and tosh and pish.

‘Not sure about the ‘tosh’ and ‘pish’
but yes, I take your point.
I’ll cadge a boat from Portsmouth,
on my own accoint.’

— And I’ll cast off from Bridgeport,
across the bristling swell.
It can’t be any worse than this
— our rhymes have gone to hell.


 

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