Paying For Her Lock Hospital [Early] Discharge With Dead Men’s Shillings

Cantankerous is the morning
… eager for her return,
I turn, surefooted, alley-wards,
to dart, duck and dive
my way uptown to deliver
my hard-earned pocket-stash.
‘Gratitude’ doesn’t sit well
in her ice-blue eyes…
but, she’ll be pleased to see me
for the better part of 5 minutes
… and that’ll bloody do me.
Born too damned pretty, tha ‘un,
pawned gnashers or not…
I’m either staging suicides
to save her, or to bail her out.
I’ve hoisted a whole pork pie
and a flagon of Pale Ale,
for us to share by that oak tree,
like last time, she’ll like ‘at.
Bit of luck, it’s been hard,
and she’s been treated unkindly,
only not too much, like…
which’ll make her needing rest,
and I’ll get a whole night,
with her cruel, selfish heart,
bedded right down by my side.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.