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Prison Camp Mirage
by
Sydney Huimphreys
(Fepow)
"I fancy some caviar, Jeeves," I said,
"I've really gone off the smoked salmon,
And I can't face the 'pate de fois gras' instead,
It's more of a bore than the gammon.
"A touch of chilled vodka, Jeeves, I suggest
Enhances the caviar, gives it a bite,
And served with a Chablis - yes, that might be best
To sharpen the edge of my dull appetite.
'I'm tempted to follow with venison steak.
Or the duck a´ 1' orange with diced carrot,
Or would you suggest a Savannah clambake'?
But no, that won't go with the claret."
Jeeves understands that my tastes are quite plain.
I can do without luxuries; I've no time for greed,
A Havanna or two, the odd glass of champagne,
The simplest of things are all that I need.
But Jeeves started shaking his greying groomed head
And his face was fading from view.
A bloke from the cookhouse stood there instead
Saying "Hey there! Get in the queue!"
"My name is Bert Reeves, and I ain't seen no Jeeves,
And the venison's all been dished out.
There´s only some rice and a stew of green leaves.
If you don't grab it quick you'll get nowt.
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