Barrow Fields i would ask, almost insist, on treating you kind and fair

Confusion flushed her head and wreaked anarchy upon her thought processes as he began his refrain, rattletrap voice cranking out a rococo ballad that she could only vaguely interpret as a passionately phonic letter proclaiming his adoration for the unhinged broad falling over herself in his wake. A broad fast becoming worn out despite her resolve to pry his liver from his innards and sell them to the black market so could collect enough money to buy a pistol to put in her mouth.

She slowed up and strained her ears towards him, chest huffing with exasperation, head spinning and reeling with humiliation. He sang to the stratosphere, crooning his serenade to the omnipotence of the sun with booming enthusiasm. She knew if she started after him again, he would easily outpace her, so instead, camouflaging a mixed palette of feelings, to don serenity of swan plumage, she sweetly trilled at him. "Oh Romeo! I'm absolutely besotted," Lusca cried, shimmying her bosom like a showgirl and fluttering her eyes. "Come here and let me lay one on ya, lug!" Doe-like in her mannerisms, she flashed him a winsome smile.