As we reached the bridge that foggy night,
A mournful gull cried out across the bight.
And when you paused and turned to look,
I saw my chance; a good push was all it took.
And over you went, like a harpy taking flight.
I won’t shed a single tear as I stand and watch you go.
This happy smile upon my face is all I have to show.
All these years, you’ve made my life a painful living hell.
So long, you wretched hag. Goodbye and fare thee well.
You’ll soon be singing halleluiah with the choir down below.
Under Windsor Bridge, 1912, by Adolphe Valette
Linked to The Mag 131.