There was such a fine lady,
From Plymouth travelled she,
Five hours upon a lonely coach,
Just to come and see me,
For a most pleasant afternoon,
Spent in rolling naked embrace,
Pure sex for hours but two,
Was what crazily took place.
Then sadly she had to depart,
For another five hours of time,
To contemplate as to whether,
It was heaven or a stolen crime.
Fireworks sparkled through me,
And she equalled that of the Sound,
Salvos from below the navel,
Was the Pilgrim pleasure we found.
We corresponded in secret,
And a return was surely planned,
A promise of moorland mischief,
Set a wildfire to be fanned.
But that would only prove,
To be our one encounter of beauty,
Cancer took hold a deathly grip,
And snatched her with such cruelty.
My Devon Lover of Life.