it's hard to be a saint in the city

bun got a letter from snakey the other day, and wot he rode was:

"Dear Haselore,


when I woke up on sunday morning i could not find you anywhere!


I went to the river but you weren't there!


I went to a dance but there you weren't neither!


I even bought an ice cream cone 'cause it was so bloody hot!

I just wondered if you had taken a train...


...or if you had gone off by ship.

or if anything would have gone dead wrongly with you!

Yours truly, Snakey"

bun was a little bit ashamed - but then - only a little bit - and after all: in wot f%&$ing city did this fool try to look for me?


yours, haselore