rumbling over the severn, my belly thinking my throat’s been cut.

 

 

Dylan Thomas, in First Class, dispatching Rainbow Trout

(tatties, peas and half a stout).

There’s scurf on the shoulders of his tweed

(‘Howell’s of St. Mary St., Cardiff’).

 

Mistook him for a Beatle. “Ringo’s in the dining car!”

 

“A cwtsh for a poxy autograph?”

(Who’s he think he is! Richard Burton?)

“Thruppence for a Bourbon Finger?”

(that’s the biscuit not the liquor)

 

And, me?

Rumbling over the Severn, my belly thinking my throat’s been cut.

 

3 thoughts on “rumbling over the severn, my belly thinking my throat’s been cut.

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