That sweet Blossom, Tearsday,
loved all things
there whenever Chance permitted.
Chance was a creature of habit,
smiled on Tearsday three times
on Thursday mornings
between Shipping Forecasts.
Gerald the Burn-Out
dwelt in anti-cyclones,
and traipsed in murk and squall.
A most unlikely couple: Which they weren’t.
So right on
Bump and grind.
Sweat & simper.
Pass the crimper,
Adrienne, got a right one ear.
Scissor schwesters steeling snippers.
Castration: a Tomean’s rite to shoes.
Sweetbreads and old heads tail the culprit,
The lactiferous Mrs Vase. Yes, shedunnit.
With the wimple in the temple,
aided and abetted by Drudge, the Sphincter.
A distincter demon was there not.
This side of Hieronymus Dosh