neither cockney nor strine
She appeared waif like out of a northern blizzard
I said, are you lost; she said, Emma Chisit
I said four pounds six, do you think you can meet it
She said, I might need time, it is certainly fleeting
More time, wouldn’t that likely be cheating
She said, don’t be daft, I don’t squander chance meetings
I’ll have your four pounds six by half past six this good evening
I said, that’s way too late — and that ended our greeting
I chanced on my way, quite pure, but deceiving
Because come six thirty…or at least later that evening
I pondered the price squandered by Emma Chisit leaving
It’s strine she said, it’s a question of merit
And so fell upon our second chance meeting
A parlance so fine, can’t decline Emma Chisit
A particular refinement sublime in rich pickens
The price is now five and sixty more in loose shilling
When Emma’s in town very few get to chilling
I will take it, but not now, do we have an agreement
I said only after you’ve paid for my ongoing aggrievement
It is now six pounds sixty, not one penny less
She said, I’ll give you six pounds sixty and six for the chest
Now a third chanced meeting was bound to elapse
But she showed up for the fourth and claimed her deals don’t go south
Emma Chisit I said, the price is now…
