THE LADY

She left the web, she left
the loom,
She made three paces
through the room,
She saw the Ocado van
on Zoom,

And so she hurried down
the stair,
The shoes she had were
not a pair,
She hadn't time to brush
her hair.

She scurried on towards
the shore,
She hadn't been out there
before.
She saw just where the
barge could moor.

She scanned the things
that she had bought,
And then she had a
dreadful thought:
'It's not my order!' cried
a fraught

'I'll sack the lot - 
I'll have them shot - 
This must go back to
Camelot.'

The gap between the
quay and barge
Was widening, growing
ever large,
She toppled in and, 
falling, cried - 
'The curse is come!' and
promptly died.

BY
DARRYL ASHTON