DRUNK SO MUCH I WAS OFF MY FACE – A ‘silly’ verse!



At first I had heard she was living back in Paris,

Yet a little later I lost track of her,

Then one day I received an urgent message,

That she was at death’s door in Hanover.


At the start she said, ‘Do not ever fall in love with me,’

I answered, ‘Yes,’ yet that was but a lie,

For already I had become besotted,

If I could not win her heart then I would surely die.


They say time heals a lost devotion,

Yet in truth I never found that so,

Each day of the decade since she departed,

Each day brought with it a new low.


Regardless, at the news of her grave affliction,

Across the Channel onto Germany I rushed,

I found her at her lodgings in Hanover,

And arrived more than a little flushed.


Even so very ill she still retained great beauty,

Lying under swathes of blankets upon her bed,

I leaned forward and gently kissed her gelid brow,

And by way of riposte this is what she said.


“How on earth have you discovered me?

I really thought I had lost you; you twat for good,

For you to see me thus causes me annoyance,

So bugger off back to England – understood?”


Tail between my legs I took of my leave,

For she had clearly put me in my place,

So I found a little bar off Luisenstrasse,

And drunk so much that I was off my face.


In the morning I was told she had passed away,

Only an hour after I had left the previous night,

She had however penned me a short note,

That read, ‘You always were a bore and none too bright!’


9 thoughts on “DRUNK SO MUCH I WAS OFF MY FACE – A ‘silly’ verse!

  1. A masterpiece and it brings back memories, but of course. I seem to recall a sweet soprano voice saying “What the hell do you want?” a few times in my career. Came as a shock, it did.

    1. I know that feeling so well. My love life as a younger man was a nightmare – to the extent I think most of my characters are based on me, the accomplished ‘twat.’

  2. This was very delightful…at least I assume this is a fictional account, for I wouldn’t wish this kind of rejection upon anyone. On the odd chance it is real: I feel sorry for the woman that died not appreciating what it is to be loved, even if it is by a not too bright bore;)

    1. Cheers for that – with this I started out trying to write an almost serious piece capturing the essence of Europe twixt the wars (a time in history that fascinates me). About half way through I did what I always seem to do and killed it stone dead with a daft ending – can’t help myself really!

    1. I am none to sure the bore I write of in the first person was/is a bohemian! Then again that is probably why you wrote ‘echoes’ – I should have thought this through a little better! Cheers.

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