Watson’s Lament

If you were Irene Adler
And I were Sherlock Holmes,
Our passion would be fiery
As a hundred thousand ohms.
The world would glorify our love
In endless epic poems.
We would honeymoon in Reichenbach
Where the falling water foams;
On Uffa and in far Tibet
We would build vacation homes.
By day we’d tour the countryside
In hansom cabs or broughams;
We would spend our nights in poring
Over ashes, stains, and loams–
If you were Irene Adler
And I were Sherlock Holmes.

We would dauntlessly stroll fogbound streets
Where the footpad slyly roams;
Together we’d solve cryptic crimes;
Our triumphs would fill tomes.
We would shadow super-criminals
Through ghostly catacombs,
Through the opium dens of Limehouse
And through Brighton’s pleasure domes–
If you were Irene Adler
And I were Sherlock Holmes.

But alas! You’re Mary Morstan
And I am Watson, John or James,
Two ordinary mortals
With ordinary names;
And in spite of all the sorcery
Of wizards, djinns, and gnomes,
You remain not Irene Adler
And I am still not Sherlock Holmes.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Maybe actually good stuff, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s