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J. Elk-Baptisté

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019

J. Elk-Baptisté

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Annabelle Croft

Pretty Annie’, boys would say

She’s from the biggest house in town

Her father’s rich

Mother too

Can’t catch a Croft lest well-to-do

Nan’ would say

You’re a sweet girl, true

I’ve tidied all these years for you

And have finally

Had enough

She went on tidying and,

Father gave the whole wide world

Mother gave ten thousand books

Insisting, Annabelle dear do

Keep to your room and tell it true

Pretty, Annabelle Croft agreed

Took up her pen, but dearie me

When home to rest, she up and died,

Her lonesome heart was ninety five.

There you go, Arthur Daly

A cat on steroids is not anything very attractive. Bit of an embarrassment, really

Steroids. Or, as Arthur Daly referred to them in one of those old episodes, steer-rods.

I liked it then and so, steer-rods it is.

The cat is certainly having a difficult time steering itself—doesn’t appear to know where it’s going—not at all. Up the living room curtains and down again in an absolute flash. Like something possessed. Demented, more likely… Always knew they’re accomplished when it comes to pouncing, but had no idea they could leap about like this. Extraordinary behavior.

Was never a cat person really … more a reptile man. But it’s another story, of course. In the mean time one could say I’ve got my hands full.

Get down from there--blighter! Get down you bloody fool of a thing!

Mother is not going to be at all pleased.


True lemon juice cannot come in a plastic bottle.

The yellow colored bottle does not validate anything.

The words, “true” and, “real”, on the label mean little.

There’s a mention of percentages— Ah ha! So, it is real juice, but it is not just juice?

“What is truth?” Ask Pontius Pilate; he couldn’t find out, could he?

As far as the question of lemons goes, it’s a fruit and it grows on a tree and you pick it.

It’s about all a person needs to know in order to get the real deal in lemon juice.

Cut and squeeze.

Satisfaction guaranteed.

Lemon tree very pretty. As the song says.


Churlish of me, I suppose

But at the outset of war

Those first up for enlistment

Are favored by the ladies

They are soon ladies in crepe

And cannot count the losers

Out on fields where we play

The most serious game of all

At the end of it light is drawn in

Sponged up like life, away from fairness

And ghostly hearts of brothers

Hover, expressing hope for

Tomorrow’s fresh young things

Don’t let the world just stop

Can you fix it for us please

It must be mended

It was perfect; we thought it good


Give the poor man a drink now

Before he falls down from coughing

--before tearing himself apart

Trying to show he has manners

There with the young woman, Mabel

Mable something or other

I forget which of them she is.

But we shan’t declare ourselves remiss

A name is just name after all, and,

Forgetting is, under the circumstance, forgivable.

Cogs have slipped.

It’s all it is.

Upstairs, like.

Yes, Mam--in the belfry.

Here we go now good fellow, you

Had better sit down for a spell, take a load off

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