My Lady's Maladies Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Lucinda wasn't well at all,
she nearly drove us up the wall,
since on the carpet sleep did she
and not in bed, like you or me.
But everything now seems alright,
and so on Friday we'll take flight.

We're flying to a French city
thats known world over as Paris,
and once we're there we'll settle down
with no more wandering round town.
May coming months far calmer prove,
Or else, I fear, we'll have to move.

But as stockmarkets sink so low,
as if we'd move! Where could we go?