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Wet Lunch in The City

Poetry By: redskelf

Written a few years ago after the stockmarket crash.

Submitted:Jan 6, 2013    Reads: 31    Comments: 4    Likes: 4   

Hooray, Henry, let's have another gin.
I say, Nigel, your turn to get them in.
By Jove, Miwanda, you're looking wather queer.
Cooee, Samantha, two vodkas over here.
What Ho, Tristram, I hear you've bought a Porsche.
Dash it all, Jocelyn, mind your drink. By Gosh.
That's torn it, Binky, I'm due back on the floor.
Drink up, Julian, you haven't far to go.
Steady on, Cyril, I'm feeling wather stwange.
Just the job, eh, Bunter, when you work in foreign exchange.
Oh, super, Daphne, you've bought another round.
Do tell, Hermione, how many gills to the pound?
Decent of you, Wupert, but I couldn't eat a thing.
Must fly, Davina, bell's about to ring.
Toodle-pip, Sebastian, I really have to dash.
Good Lord, Biggles, what was that Almighty Crash?


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