(The below is written firmly with my tongue in my cheek. Well maybe …)!

—

I would like to thank the following for their assistance in completing this book:

My editor, for taking my meagre gains from my literary eforts. (any remaining errors are, needless to say entirely his responsibility, and nothing to do with me squire!).

My partner, Miss Slapdash for her terrible cooking which, being wholly inedible drove me back to my study thereby encouraging me to write.

My publican, Mr Dodgy Geezer for serving what he calls beer, and the various ner-do-wells who frequent the Last Chance Saloon. The activities and conversations of these good people has provided me with literary material for many a year to come.

Finally I would like to extend a special thanks to my lawyer, Mrs Sue ‘Em before they Sue You, for her tireless eforts in fending off the many and…

The clock
Does mock
His shoes
Her discarded sock.
“Those who in boudoirs stay
Will lose
Time
For they
Being at play
Do not hear
My chime,
Or perhaps out of fear
Turn a deaf ear
To the rhyme
Of time”.

The evening bird
Has the last word
Ere night closes.
In on virtue and sin.

The poet supposes
That another sun
Will come
and he will thrill
To birdsong once more.
Ere his day is o’er.