A Plea to the Lady B.

Dear Sarah D

I’d like to see

If you can still be friends with me

’Cos if you are

I’ll hail a star

And hitch a lift to Shangri-la

But if you’re not

I’ll sit and rot

And smoke myself to death on pot

And when I’m dead

And white as bread

I’ll come and stand at your bed head

To shake and moan

And curse and groan

And put a hex upon your phone

And whoop and wave

And rant and rave

And rain down insults from my grave

So tell me right

You pesky sprite

Some time twixt now and Christmas Night

If I’m still in

And free from sin

Or cast in Lady Bella’s bin.

What does a chap have to do to get some honest attention, eh? What?