Seven feathers had she picked
And drawn between her fingertips
Faster she went, she ran, she tripped
Her ankle broke, she could not rise
But there she lay content:
I found my mate, it is the moor
I´m natures bride, here will I lie
Shall dream wild dreams of lands
And more: the endless turquoise sea!
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
The horse was very near…
She sat upright
“Madame, you´re hurt?”
“I´m dead, sir” – she replied.
Few minutes later:
Groom and bride.
“Your name, sir…?”
“Marmaduke, Bonthrop –
And Shelmerdine!!”
“Orlando mine”
“Sure, you´re not male, Orlando?”
“Sure, you´re no woman, Shelmerdine?”
“Who cares? If you are mine!?”
People gathered, bells were rung
A sea of candles s´been arranged
Marmaduke Bonthrop, on your knees!
Shelmerdine, sailor, stay right there!
Orlando, kneel down too!
The priest´s voice triumphed in the end:
Rings were passed from hand to hand
But then confusion rose:
Orlando, thin-dressed, waved good-bye…
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock
His horse was there to leave…
She stood upright
“Madame, you´re hurt?”
“I´m dead, sir” – she replied.
Since a few minutes:
Groom and bride.
“Your name, sir…?”
“Marmaduke, Bonthrop –
And Shelmerdine!!”
“Orlando mine”
“Sure, you will wait, Orlando?”
“Sure, you will come back, Shelmerdine?”
“Don´t care! I´m thine!”
