For their moment, a sign;
But, the queue they were in never shortened;
So, they caught the next tram
Which left for Siam
And, unsurprisingly, they decanted in…
For a pier
Like a funeral pyre.
‘Oh, no!’ They thought;
‘A fire has caught!
And the flames grow higher and higher!’
But, fear not for the pier
For it soon became clear
That it was ethereal mist
And not at all a fire
That made the vision a lyre
(Or a ‘liar’ if you’re being pedantic)
They turned from the fog
And started a slog
To hop to the nearby Atlantic.
Realising their folly
Didn’t stop this new jolly
They were sharing a road trip together;
And, as they’d broken the ice
She told him her name it was Heather
(Which was nice).
Heather was a whether girl
Who was averse to making a decision
So, she hopped with Bertram across the land
With little or no precision.
So, when they reached the Atlantic vast
They knew their journey had ended at last
They were the happiest that two people had ever been
And lived happily ever after (in stone-built Aberdeen).