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Poetry Pleases: A Letter To The Bungalow Owner

Cecilia Evans had a shivery, chilly time in that holiday bungalow.

Dear Miss Hill,
We've had our fill
Of cold and illness.
Don't wait until
You've time to kill,
Don't be so dilatory,
Come explain,
Give aid,
The central heating's choked and died,
We're cold inside
Your bungalow.

Yes, I'm afraid,
Miss Hill,
Enough's enough,
Deposit's paid,
You've grabbed the loot,
Remained quite mute,
Cried off - still,
We've seen the Lakes,
And complaints galore
Are due to you,
(And cash),
But it takes two
To make a fight,
Must make coward1y dash,
Ignominious flight.

Miss Hill, you will
Not hear from us again,
No not for dust,
But damn, I must
Pay your wretched bill,
So richly undeserved.

So, Dear Miss Hill,
Wait until
A braver soul
Is here, a goal,
A target for your greed.

We - Make a fuss?
That's because
Meanness to us
Anathema.
Farewell Miss Hill,
Must find a place to fill
The flowing bowl,
A thimbleful's
Too scant for us.

Ta ta, Miss Hill,
I can only be,
Yours disappointedly...


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