For his fifth birthday, Heathcliff
Received a toy sword and sheath
With bubble mixture inside from
His absent-minded Uncle Keith.
It seemed an ideal gift.
Heathcliff tingled with pride,
Blowing heavenly bubbles
In the lugholes of his relations,
As they beamed with adult adoration
For a child achieving the easily achievable.
But twenty six years on, at sea,
Heathcliff was besieged by pirates
With six foot sabres gleaming
Like stainless steel cutlery.
Alas, our hero's bubble sword
Offered poor protection.
An Uncle's birthday bungling
Had doomed the lad to bloody vivisection.
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