Amorous endeavour

My amorous endeavour

With a girl called Heather,

Who wore bangles and beads

And a short skirt of leather,

Was doomed to oblivion for ever and ever.

“I still like you,” she said,

“But our ties we must sever -

I’ve fallen in love with a fellow called Trevor.

I hope you’re not feeling so under the weather

You jump from a stool with your neck in a tether.”

“Don’t worry,” said I,

“Don’t think yourself clever -

I never did like you that much

So – whatever!”

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