the lady and the tramp

The Lady and the Tramp

I took the bus from Ellesmere Port to Birkenhead,
from there the underground to Liverpool, walked
to Hanover Street; took a rickety lift up four floors
to a studio where Miss Summers tried to teach me
to speak posh English. A hopeless task my Norse
accent refused to be relegated clung to my throat
like phlegm, the size of a jelly fish, and anyway,
when Miss Summer said my own voice was sexy
I decided to take acting lessons with her instead.

Alas this didn’t last; the doctor said I was fit to go
back to sea and I was sent to join a ship in Aruba.
I loved Miss Summers used to meet her secretly in ´
Southport on her days off, impressed me with her
noble manners it was like making love to a duchess.
The problem with being a seafarer is that when he
Returns, life ashore has moved on. My teacher lady
had an acting job, when I rang her voice was arctic
and, yes, she had also gone and married a doctor.