Listen to poem:
Two's Company - Scout's Honour
"At my bitter wits' end,"
was her mutter.
"Both of them?"
facetiously, I did utter.
"I'm beside myself,"
emotionally, she cried.
"A split personality,"
jokingly, I replied.
"No, I am but one,
and all tangled up I've become,"
instantly, her rebuff.
"At a loose end then?"
I questioned, off the cuff.
"Tied up in knots, more like it,"
in distress, her response.
"Prepared, like a Boy Scout, I'll be your undoing,"
I observed, feigning nonchalance,
"Give the word, and then, who knows,"
hopeful, I had half a chance,
she heard me suggestively propose.
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