Tisk Tisk, Mr. Smith

Tisk tisk, Mr. Smith She slapped her hand with the pointer Looking up, I see she’s stern I stand, wishing to anoint her I am commanded to about face I’ve committed an infraction Taking stock of my flesh She swoons in satisfaction But I’m returned to my kitchen Now pouring a cup of Lady GreyContinue reading “Tisk Tisk, Mr. Smith”