It little seemed to matter that I came after my time
Or that I'd left the Chronicles behind; the weather was calm
But the weals upon my fingers were an ill omen sign
Still no sooner had I taken a pew than came the call to arm
I never paid attention that 'twas an Egyptian day
But the first droplet back almost to the surface rose
The dame raised a querulous eyebrow but 'one more try' did say
And granted me my passage to the volunteer rows
A hungry chime of half past five sang faintly from next door
The clock face stared impassive without eyes
The unforgiving wind against the dreamscape battered sore
As the hapless Dame Pigmot tried me for size
When she'd toiled and tried a while and located my vein
She should have paused awhile since she knew that she would stray
With no thought for me or for the common weal or gain
She drove in Morton's Fork and went away
Dame Rose came to the rescue to essay her cotton wool
And worked the oracle while others gaped
Yet spake she that we still might not pass muster to the full
The mysterious words echoed : "It escaped"
Aye, though I tried with all my might, even drawing attention
From the potgirl at the adjacent bed
Still they all adjudged me at fault, and thwarted all redemption
When by my side a lamp lit cruel red
My time and effort vain, I sat up slowly, choked with tears
And from the broken bank made open plea
But Fortune or some hateful gnome had stopped the ladies' ears
As they to the grey walls discarded me
The North Sea heaved when I left the place
The grey skies wept upon the strand
Let all Midhaven know the sadness in my face
Let me go a wayfarer through the land
To her Manor House door my bruise's tale I'd bear
But the Lady had some other place to be
And all Midhaven knows my love and gold I'd share
With the one who'll mend my broken wings for me