by Steven "Prometheus" Hoey
Lo! And round and round the port goes,
Slithering along the lacquered oak.
Alas! It slides too far and flows
A ruby stream Dan’s groin to soak
‘Ho ho!’ cried Dan as his pants turned a-rose
A smile on his face, nose dusted with coke.
Childe Harold, an agent extraordinaire, known for folly and caprice,
Had a hand in Dan’s demise, the other groped Flossie’s fleece.
‘Stop this at once!’ shouted M., for he’d had enough,
‘What a disgrace to her majesty’s secret service!’
M. was well vexed, and when mad, pretty rough,
‘I thought you the best, but you’re all a bunch of perverts!’
‘Not I, certainly not!’ said agent Fiona in a huff.
Dan Juan sat there stoned, silent in bliss;
Mad Jack Schulzie was insulted but kept his mouth shut
Clad neck to tie in crimson tux just in case he had to cut.
With his usual aplomb, it was Childe who recovered first,
‘Come now, M. old boy, cut us a break,
It’s been only a week since Prometheus was put in the hearse
And hardly a fortnight since he drowned in the lake;
The least we can do is quench sorrow’s bitter thirst
With champers, d’Yquem and black pudding cake!’
M.’s anger abated at once; he knew not what to say:
Prometheus must be mourned, but in this way? God, it’s Good Friday!
At the table’s end hazy in the heavily liquored air
An agent cleared his throat and stood.
It was Bond, Ulysses Bond, his head crowned white with hair
That flowed like cream down his shoulders into his pud.
U.S. Bond, a long-term asset, had lived long, had taken care;
He had it all sussed, knew when to pull out when he should
Distant cousin to their more famous cohort, 007,
And surviving uncle of poor Prometheus (now in heaven).
In the distance rolled the sound of thunderball —
Secret agent Lowry sought a dog to blame —
But alas none was to be found, the pong filled the hall.
The agent’s eyes watered, John hung his head in shame,
But Bond was unperturbed, he’d seen and smelt it all;
He had presence this man, though lacked James’ fame
‘I have something to tell you,’ he said, ‘about our dear departed.’
Lowry grimaced once, twice, thrice, and once again he farted.
Ulysses reached into his trousers and pulled the thing out:
It was eleven inches long and wrinkled.
‘And I thought he had a long tenor,’ whispered Gilly to the scout.
But Freda was unimpressed — but in her eye was a twinkle
For she was Dan’s bedder once and knew what it was all about;
Staircase 2 had Dan sized up as Freda her rumours sprinkled.
Bond held it over the candles, their heat to melt the wax
And unrolled the parchment carefully so as to avoid any cracks.
‘This missive is from my nephew,’ he announced in basso tones,
‘I received it only yesterday: a horrid tale it tells
So awful and dark a letter, it chills my very bones:
Temptation and seduction, dark tricks and witches spells,
Evil and bedevilment once thought the domain of crones
Cloaked in comely form dragged Prometheus ’neath the swell! ’
‘I knew it,’ cried Childe Harold, ‘I knew it’d come to pass!
Prometheus at last laid low in search of a piece of ...’
‘Ask me not to explain,’ said U.S., ‘for I’ve only come to read.
It’s not very long (the letter, that is), so I hope you’ll stay awake
For I fear for our ranks, so you’d do well to pay heed.
He held the letter so tightly his hand began to shake —
The fingernails dug so deep into his palm did he bleed.
But being a Bond, he steeled himself and spake ...
‘My dearest uncle Ulysses, I write you from the continent,
I’m in love (again!) and this time she’s got me wantin’ it!’
‘Marriage, that is, and this time it’s for real!
My love for her is like a burning light!
Oh, she’s pierced my heart, may the wound never heal!
At last, Oh at last! Everything seems right.
But I am lost without bearing, so keen is my zeal
To sleep all the day and fly with her by night!
As mad as it sounds it seems madder still
That I am hopelessly hers, a slave to her will!
‘But how did we meet? This you’ll want to know
’Twas a curious event not long past in Spain
At the Contessa de Basquervilla’s mountain chateau
Her family is known for its dogs this is plain;
Great feral hounds that always take "best of show"
For they devour all the others, then munch on wolfbane
But I digress; the girl, the party, that sweet wild night!
I’m soaring high o’er the Heath, she holds the string, I am the kite!
‘I was taking a dip in the pool not long after sundown
I floated with languor and wore not a stitch
When she came up from the gardens and slipped off her gown;
She stood there, a moon goddess, and I felt a familiar itch.
She smiled, dived in, cool arms encircled my waist pulling me down
I fought for air ’neath the water now black as pitch.
Her lips were like flames but her hands were oddly cool
And that was when I lost it as we made it in the pool.
‘My soul was hers, I told her this and she laughed;
Rich and melodious like golden, honeyed cream.
From her mother and her mother before her she learned her craft
And then she told me her name, whispered as in a dream:
‘Lisbet,’ from Russia with love; a spy I’d wager else I’m daft;
She feigned an interest in comp. lit. or so it would seem
She said though she loved Byron and Shelley, of the latter she was fonder.
‘He couldn’t swim,’ she said with a smile, ‘now his soul’s a-wander.’
‘An eccentric lass with long dark hair and flashing eyes
She says looking for the man with the golden gun.
She tells me I’m the one and at this she cries;
I am puzzled and frightened and feel compelled to run
Far away from my spy witch before part of me dies;
Far away to the coast, the sea; from night to the sun.
My assignment in Spain is now near completed
(Another harrowing job against agent McKinsey I competed).
‘No doubt M. requires of me another little jaunt
To some exotic place in a far off distant land.
But that’ll have to come later as I, rather gaunt
Weakened and pale, I lie here, and Lisbet holds my hand.
We’re to be wed tomorrow, soon after to begin our haunt.
And time will cease to be my enemy, this is her plan.
She wants to spend our honeymoon on some Swiss lake
But I can write no longer ... cannot stay awake.’
‘And so my friends, you see the nature of the thing
That plucked poor Prometheus from our bosom midst;
A siren spy has infiltrated our Byronic ring
With a view to a kill we’re all on her list!
And so I’ve asked M. to ask Q. a gadget with him bring
To buoy us up when we are low, to show our fist! ’
At this Q. got up, his trousers down, in his hand a miniature life vest
‘Simple device really, slips over the head; Q. always knows best.’