Cape of Good Horn

She was back
From the hunt
And let me know

Attention seeking behaviour
I say
She looked, unimpressed

We counted
In our heads
Sweet as clover

The gull was there
Picking at his beak
Unsteady

He hardly matters
Let’s be clear
Except to her

The lady likes
A little filth
Every now & then

Free will
And all that
Giddy up!