A Poem Left At Midnight By My Bed
‘I will post from my good host
A toupee cushion, some pomade
A lace cap in the latest fashion,
One feather for Miss Pimperl,
All this before you wrinkle!
O Nanny dearest
Sister mine - O blister true,
A thousand blessings do not rue
As in thy heart
Thou art mistress of the silly fart
And your new fortepiano.
So from this queerest fish
Your dainty dish,
Sends his kisses on the stroke of twelve.
Adieu sweet maid,
As long as I can piddle
Off to Mannheim on the morrow.’ W.A.M.
Papa and I are left behind to stew in our own piss-pots and play for the Archbishop at Christmas. Heigh-ho. Here we stay and there they go. Mama, come back at once! I am missing you before the coach has even disappeared from view. N.