Waiting For My Lady

My lady sits at the water front alone, pondering her day. I sit on my steed, guarding her counsel, in every way. Across the water is the town where her subjects live. I am one of them, they call me Sir Gallagher T. Bone Bive. Puffy undeveloped clouds surround the moon peeking through. I glance at my lady, wondering if she knows why or who. We are waiting for, in this creepy watery almost grave. I would like to get to the pub, but I am her knight, not a knave. So I sit here patiently, feeling creepy under this sordid sky. As she looks in the distance, and I have no inkling why. Is it Sir Larry? Is that who she is waiting for tonight? I hope not, for I know he went home with my sister, Delight.