Dredcrumble Moor! Isn’t that where
Young Brian Jumpers wandered off
Without a word? Where Nellie Clough
Took the shortcut to the fair
And disappeared? Where Lady Breedlove
Vanished with her chestnut mare?
Rain freezes on the heather. Fog
Closes like a glove. Police
Shine their torches. The C.I.D.’s
Billingsgate stares at the bog.
The severed hand he thinks he sees
Is just a glove caught on a log.
Beneath it is a torn snapshot,
Poorly focused, of a man
In trilby hat, dark glasses, raincoat.
Billingsgate hands round the snap
Later in the Bell and Anchor:
“Any of you lot know this chap?”
They all deny it in the boozer.
Raincoat, glasses, trilby hat . . .
Doesn’t that description fit
The body found up at the manor?
Wait a tick! This chap was at
The bookstall reading Chips and Whizzer. . . .
Billingsgate picks at his mutton,
Wishes he could find Bygraves,
Wishes he were home at Luton.
Now he gets some dreadful news:
Lady Madrigal du Bois
Collapsed at noon playing badminton.