The Lady and the Tramp <br /> <br />I took the bus from Ellesmere Port to Birkenhead, <br />from there the underground to Liverpool, walked <br />to Hanover Street; took a rickety lift up four floors <br />to a studio where Miss Summers tried to teach me <br />to speak posh English. A hopeless task my Norse <br />accent refused to be relegated clung to my throat <br />like phlegm, the size of a jelly fish, and anyway, <br />when Miss Summer said my own voice was sexy <br />I decided to take acting lessons with her instead. <br /> <br />Alas this didn’t last; the doctor said I was fit to go <br />back to sea and I was sent to join a ship in Aruba. <br />I loved Miss Summers used to meet her secretly in ´ <br />Southport on her days off, impressed me with her <br />noble manners it was like making love to a duchess. <br />The problem with being a seafarer is that when he <br />returns, life ashore has moved on. My teacher lady <br />had an acting job, when I rang her voice was arctic <br />and, yes, she had also gone and married a doctor.<br /><br />oskar hansen<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lady-and-the-tramp/
