So I picked up some books and a papah or so,
To wead as I sat by the sea.

The tide was far out in the distance,
So I walked for some yards on the shore,
To a kind of wock or a boulder,
Quite seven feet high, or p'waps more.

The weather was weally quite decent,
As I lay on that wock all alone,
And glanced at the news in the papah,
While bweathing the bwacing ozone.

I finished the page I was weading,
Looked wound me, and to my surpwise
Oh! howwors!... a tewwible sight met my gaze,
I could scarcely believe my own eyes.

Perspiwation stood out on my forehead
Like beastly big beads on my bwow,
I saw I had weally to battle with death,
And must save myself,... ah! but how?

Was I in my youth then to pewish?
This awful thought flashed through my mind,
For the tide had come in and surwounded
The wock upon which I weclined!
  I looked all awound for assistance,
But no one to help me was nigh,
And I wealized then that all Wamsgate
Had left me alone there,... to die!

I shouted in vain for the lifeboat,
The waves dwowned my voice in their woar,
And yet I could see in the distance
The vulgar herds safe on the shore.

I howled out one huge yell of anguish,
And then came the worst of my shocks...
For I had to paddle quite twenty-five yards,
And spoilt a two-bob pair of socks!


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