Abruptly moonstrangled,
Made pale.
Ghost faced, spectral,
Bloodless, frail.

The H-Dropping Grocer

An H-dropping grocer mislaid his pantry keys.

“Oh bloody ’ell,” cried he, “I can’t get to the cheese!”

The H-dropping grocer said, “I ’aven’t got the means

to sell you gorgonzola but I can do runner beans.”

When people ordered cheddar he offered garden peas.

But the dairy-demanding dastards were difficult to please.

Those fromage-fancying fuckers

Turned their noses up at greens.

The poor H-dropping grocer said, “I can’t unlock the larder,

and the fact it’s National Cheese Day makes everything much ’arder.

I can offer you tinned carrots and a pack of Garibaldis.

Failing that, you might get Baby Bels on offer down at Aldi’s.”

The H-dropping grocer said, “I’ve ’ad quite enough of this.

It’s National sodding Cheese Day, an opportunity not to miss.

My public won’t be ’appy with apples ‘n’ ’alf price oranges.

I’ll ’ave to break into the store by ’acking through the door ’inges.”